Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Home is wherever I'm with you
I have written and rewritten this certain entry many times over the past few days. They have all been slightly different versions of the same thing.
What I’m trying to say, what I’ve been trying to say is that I want to leave Boston.
There is a very distinct feeling I get every time I return to Boston after being away for a while. It’s taken me a while to sort it out, to identify it and give it a name but I’ve finally discovered exactly what this feeling is. It is my heart, breaking.
I often wondered about it as I sat in Union Station after a weekend with my family. All I could feel was an immense ache. I thought it had to do with what I was returning to when in actuality it had more to do with what I was leaving behind.
So this is what I will do. In 233 days from this blog post I will return to Connecticut. I will return to the people who gave me life so that they can help me sort out and clean up this haphazard life I have been leading.
It is the final step in a series of events that I did not originally know would lead me back to my parent’s house. I’ve let go of everything else that has kept me in Boston. I’ve stopped telling myself that I can find happiness on my own, here. There are no more stories to tell myself, no one to try to pretend to be and in 9 months there will be no reason to stay.
Trying to get something real by telling yourself stories is a trap anyway. It’s an addiction. We numb ourselves with stories because we imagine that the risk of being honest will be too painful to bear.
But what I have learned, after these past 2 years, is that nothing is more painful than sitting on a train full of strangers getting farther and farther away from the only people who really know me. The only people with the cure for my broken heart. I feel their love no matter where I am but now more than ever I need to see it. I need to feel it wrapped around me. I need to wake up to it in the morning and fall asleep to it at night.
I need to hear its song.
And I will learn the words and sing it back.
What I’m trying to say, what I’ve been trying to say is that I want to leave Boston.
There is a very distinct feeling I get every time I return to Boston after being away for a while. It’s taken me a while to sort it out, to identify it and give it a name but I’ve finally discovered exactly what this feeling is. It is my heart, breaking.
I often wondered about it as I sat in Union Station after a weekend with my family. All I could feel was an immense ache. I thought it had to do with what I was returning to when in actuality it had more to do with what I was leaving behind.
So this is what I will do. In 233 days from this blog post I will return to Connecticut. I will return to the people who gave me life so that they can help me sort out and clean up this haphazard life I have been leading.
It is the final step in a series of events that I did not originally know would lead me back to my parent’s house. I’ve let go of everything else that has kept me in Boston. I’ve stopped telling myself that I can find happiness on my own, here. There are no more stories to tell myself, no one to try to pretend to be and in 9 months there will be no reason to stay.
Trying to get something real by telling yourself stories is a trap anyway. It’s an addiction. We numb ourselves with stories because we imagine that the risk of being honest will be too painful to bear.
But what I have learned, after these past 2 years, is that nothing is more painful than sitting on a train full of strangers getting farther and farther away from the only people who really know me. The only people with the cure for my broken heart. I feel their love no matter where I am but now more than ever I need to see it. I need to feel it wrapped around me. I need to wake up to it in the morning and fall asleep to it at night.
I need to hear its song.
And I will learn the words and sing it back.
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