It's been a week now. I find myself caught in between all the moments that have shaped where I currently stand, confused and often misguided. Isn't it funny how sometimes when the surrounding noise dies down, we can hear our demons haunting us? Or how a song can just clothesline you off your feet? Or how a smell can send you to a place in your mind you have nestled and protected from any influence that could taint it?
I finished closing up the bar tonight. I turned the TVs off. I switched the lights off. I wiped down the counters and there was some "Red Lobster worthy" slow romantic song about heartbreak playing in the background. The lights were dim and the hum of the coolera had fallen away. I thought about my drive home. I would take in all the events of the evening. Contemplate all the dramatic encounters I had experienced. Soak in all the heartbreak I felt. Inhale the cold air, the smoke, and the smell of loneliness. In that moment I was...consumed...with this feeling of contentment. On a night where I should have panicked, or been upset, maybe even worried - I felt content. I knew that I would make the drive home (which ended up being 30 minutes longer because my precious grandma called) and I would walk into an apartment which I have made my home.
My grandmother, who happens to be one of my soulmates, got me on the phone tonight and went on and on and on about what my mom had told her about me; "She said you are just doing sooo good. She said you are just determined to carry on and to keep plugging forward. She just did not have enough good things to say about you. You were so beautiful and doing so great". Cute, I know. I felt...dirty. I hated to think that I wasn't...doing well. I wasn't determined. I spiraled from the level I was on. She went on to talk about how proud she was of me, and she always knew I was a great person, and when I got all these things sorted out, I was going to just be soo great and God was going to do great things with me. But little did she know...
I had recently revisited a place that once took me in as one of it's own. I have been spending time with my past. The air is a bit heavier now and a little more dense than I remember. The walls are mustier and it smells just as sweet, but with a hint of sour, now. The color of the hue was different, but it was just as dim lit as it always was. I returned. I stepped in slowly and cautiously and stayed close to the door. But before I knew it, I was dining with my favorite agents of escape and dancing with the ghosts in my closet. And at the end of the night I was going home with the tall and handsome figure that seems so comfortable and safe, but just ends up being a different shape of loneliness. I wake up...wondering where I am....and how did I get here? The taste of dissapointment in my mouth and the smell of despair in my hair. The visits have offered the temporary joy they have always provided. I reach the same heights and scream the same laughs. But sadly enough...I returned to this place I once felt at home, and I no longer feel like I belong there. You know that feeling when you go home and your parents have gotten new furniture? Or they have a whole new house all together? Yeah, whether we want it or not....we have this sense of loss. Betrayal. We realize something has been lost that will never be regained. And I no longer felt at home amongst this place I once called home. Which is a feeling I recognized. But maybe I always expected that place to take me back if I needed...but it's no longer a place I can be.
Which leaves me...in between somewhere...once again....
I finished closing up the bar tonight. I turned the TVs off. I switched the lights off. I wiped down the counters and there was some "Red Lobster worthy" slow romantic song about heartbreak playing in the background. The lights were dim and the hum of the coolera had fallen away. I thought about my drive home. I would take in all the events of the evening. Contemplate all the dramatic encounters I had experienced. Soak in all the heartbreak I felt. Inhale the cold air, the smoke, and the smell of loneliness. In that moment I was...consumed...with this feeling of contentment. On a night where I should have panicked, or been upset, maybe even worried - I felt content. I knew that I would make the drive home (which ended up being 30 minutes longer because my precious grandma called) and I would walk into an apartment which I have made my home.
My grandmother, who happens to be one of my soulmates, got me on the phone tonight and went on and on and on about what my mom had told her about me; "She said you are just doing sooo good. She said you are just determined to carry on and to keep plugging forward. She just did not have enough good things to say about you. You were so beautiful and doing so great". Cute, I know. I felt...dirty. I hated to think that I wasn't...doing well. I wasn't determined. I spiraled from the level I was on. She went on to talk about how proud she was of me, and she always knew I was a great person, and when I got all these things sorted out, I was going to just be soo great and God was going to do great things with me. But little did she know...
I had recently revisited a place that once took me in as one of it's own. I have been spending time with my past. The air is a bit heavier now and a little more dense than I remember. The walls are mustier and it smells just as sweet, but with a hint of sour, now. The color of the hue was different, but it was just as dim lit as it always was. I returned. I stepped in slowly and cautiously and stayed close to the door. But before I knew it, I was dining with my favorite agents of escape and dancing with the ghosts in my closet. And at the end of the night I was going home with the tall and handsome figure that seems so comfortable and safe, but just ends up being a different shape of loneliness. I wake up...wondering where I am....and how did I get here? The taste of dissapointment in my mouth and the smell of despair in my hair. The visits have offered the temporary joy they have always provided. I reach the same heights and scream the same laughs. But sadly enough...I returned to this place I once felt at home, and I no longer feel like I belong there. You know that feeling when you go home and your parents have gotten new furniture? Or they have a whole new house all together? Yeah, whether we want it or not....we have this sense of loss. Betrayal. We realize something has been lost that will never be regained. And I no longer felt at home amongst this place I once called home. Which is a feeling I recognized. But maybe I always expected that place to take me back if I needed...but it's no longer a place I can be.
Which leaves me...in between somewhere...once again....
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