Through The Heart And Burned Away By Roads And Gasoline

Apparently my audience of one has demanded I give an update on the events of my secluded, clostrophobic life; well fine then, here you are, sir.

Life is about to be far less exciting, but only for a spell. I'll be fermenting down here now until I get some wheels beneath me and the nerve to start the journey, that and money of course.

I am home.

No more strip club. No more coffee shop. No more cold and sleepless nights of torturous lonliness that haunts me every waking minute. No more ridiculous wads of one dollar bills to use for everything from car repairs to paying my rent. It's all good and over now. Something like a dream to me, it seems. It wasn't a good dream, but not a bad one either. The strangest part is that some things in that dream were absolutely wonderful, and others absolutely terrible. I can't recap on it all now, being far too scattered as it is, but I will do my best to give you something sufficient for the time being.

I pulled into the drive at about 4pm today. It was cool and sunny and the same as always. I drove to the gas station in my old truck; the one I have loved and wrecked and loved wrecking since I've had the damn thing. Earlier I stepped outside and smelled the air; it was inviting and crisp and I could almost taste it, that is before I lit my cigarette, and then it tasted like shit. The tree's are all green and full, the bugs are chirping in the tops and tangles, and spring is in full bloom for my arrival. This is something I very much need right now. I am coping with as much change as I have ever had to cope with. The harder task is not moving 700 miles away, but coming back with a purpose, and sustaining that purpose though you could just as easily resume the old life. I am going to be careful that that doesn't happen.

Enough of that nonsense, too. I think I am dodging the real subject on my mind at this point...

I mentioned some posts ago of someone whom I was going to have some trouble saying goodbye to with my leaving Minnesota. Our goodbye is still as fresh in my mind as if it were five minutes ago, like I have been living those five minutes now since they happened three days past. We exchanged mixes. I will say this much: nothing has caused more of an ache in the way of music than the composition of these songs, meant for me. I am listening to it as we speak, though it is hard to listen to. Mine was probably just as bad, but I can't exactly ask that, now can I?

It is an age old tale. Two people find each other, and know of the find they have found.

It didn't take me long to be enamored by this girl. We met last summer, not long after my arrival. I am not going to go into detail, but it was unordinary. I remember feeling that there was no place I would rather be than in her presence. We did so much together. Technically speaking, we had dated for what must have been nearly three months, and not once in that entire time even kissed. It was strange, yes, but honestly it didn't really matter to me. There is a thing that I have with girls. I have alot of trouble falling asleep next to a girl, unless I am extremely drunk or extremely comfortable. I have never been the latter, until this girl. I had, before I moved north, just broken up with my ex after a year and a half, and the entire time we dated barely slept together, each time I never feeling comfortable about it. But it was so easy with B. That is forever how she will be known. There was a time when I stayed at her place for three days in a row. I never felt so comfortable as in her arms. Then things fell out. There was a strange period after a series of talks where we didn't speak to one another for nearly three months. That winter became lonely and cold. I figured that it was not to be so, and what was I to do? Well, if you can see where this is going, you know the dilemma. Not long ago, we began to talk again. I just figured, "what the hell?" We became just as good of friends as we were in the beginning, even though we knew the other had changed a little with the winter alone. Then came the time that I decided I must go. It had been stewing since the end of Ray, and since I devised my new plan to get away from life and towards myself. I knew the goodbyes would be hard; I had made so many wonderful friends while I lived there. But there was something special about B. I have always felt it stuck somewhere inside me. It grew, with words and songs and sunshine. But I left. I never knew how she really felt, and I had to go, just as I've done. Well, she felt the same as I have felt, and did and do, but it is too late, it seems. I have her picture, I have her songs she meant for me, but no hands nor arms nor lips nor voice. Nothing warm and tangible. It is ever the much more complicated, and it is a situation where there is no clear solution. Neither of us knows what to do. So I listen to these songs and the crickets outside and think the best thoughts and memories I can since that's all I can do. It hurts, my friends, and you know it does, and you've known this hurt before. We all have, and if not, you need to. It is a necessary pain that your soul must endure.

I don't feel I should share anymore. That is the stuff of which I would rather not be sharing so much of; I like to hoard it for myself.

I don't know what else to write... I feel drained right now. Perhaps more tomorrow. Stay tuned, dear reader(s).

-C