I’m tired of these nearly-constant changes. For the last several years, I am constantly in a state of shift and change, acceleration and deceleration, waiting for my surroundings to level-out. There’s no coasting here, and my velocity continues to de-stabilize. Despite this, I continue to try and maintain orbital stability in my own life, constantly making fine-adjustments to keep sane and level.
“She’s taking her time making up the reasons,
To justify all the hurt inside.
I Guess she knows from the smiles and the look in their eyes,
Everyone’s got a theory about the bitter one.”
Over the past several years, I’ve watched as many of my friends have escaped this prison-city, and I’m wondering if and when it will be my time as well. These are the changes that I’ve been frequently referring to.
“They’re saying, ‘Mama never loved her much’,
And, ‘Daddy never keeps in touch,
That’s why she shies away from human affection.’”
I have very few friends left here, although those that I do have are very close, and ones that I rank very highly. I suppose, as always, it’s a question of quality over quantity. It seems that I can calculate the time I’ve been here by those that I care about scattering like dry, Autumn leaves dispersed by an Oklahoma windstorm.
“But somewhere in a private place
She packs her bags for outer space.
And now she’s waiting for the right kind of pilot to come:
And she’ll say to him…”
I’m just about done with finals, as well, and then finally I can catch up in some of the other aspects of my life, sorely neglected, such as the mountain of contract work I have to do, or the mountain of personal projects I need to complete, or the mountain of unorganized crap in my dining room I need to sort through.
“She can’t remember a time when she felt needed.
If love was red then she was color blind.
All her friends, they’ve been tried for treason,
And crimes that were never defined”
I, personally, am recognizing the fact that this town holds very little worth for me anymore. I used to love this place, it’s new-town smell, so to speak. It had mysteries unexplored, avenues never driven down, people unmet. Now, it’s all old hat. The mysteries explored, avenues pock-marked and frighteningly familiar, people met and discarded like Styrofoam packing peanuts that serve little purpose other than to get in your way. But, unfortunately, my fuel tanks are dry, and I cannot initiate the full burn needed to leave this godforsaken place. And so, I sit in perpetual orbit, watching as those that I care for are able to escape to greener pastures and new adventures.
“She’s saying, ‘Love is like a barren place,
And reaching out for human faith
Is a journey I just don’t have a map for.’”
All persons grow apart, in some way or another. It’s part of life, and it must be accepted. I’ve watched as I’ve grown apart from many over the last 6 years, and now I’m having to go through it again.
“So baby’s gonna take a dive,
And push the shift to overdrive;
Send a signal that she’s hanging
All her hopes on the stars.
What a pleasant dream…”
D.H. reaches escape velocity Friday, and will exit orbit around this town, accelerating towards another part of life that I will not share with her, except via long-distance communication as a good friend. I will, if all goes according to plan, get the opportunity to see her off, watching as she initiates full burn and blasts off towards her much coveted second-chance.
“I would fly to the moon and back if you’ll be…
If you’ll be my baby.
I’ve Got a ticket for a world where we belong,
So would you be my baby?”
Dana (better known to the rest of you as D.H.), you will be missed, but never forgotten. Good luck in this, your next chapter.
– “To the Moon and Back” by Savage Garden
Comment on this post below
You must be logged in to post a comment.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.