Wednesday, 16 December 2009

The Lost Joy of What's Next?

I'm a mover... generally a love 'em and leave 'em type gal, of sorts at least. I stay just long enough to make great memories and have the time of my life and then I move on quick before it sours. Not saying that it ever has, I haven't stayed long enough to know. I realize it sounds callous and cruel but it's really not. Most of my personality demands this type of action. I am rude, moody, crude and basically mad not to mention easily distracted, all traits that make a relationship difficult. Traits that test and, sometimes, break the bonds that people strive to keep. I'm not bitter nor upset nor do I believe that my loves and relationships are cheapened by my inabilities to emotionally function. Additionally, I've discovered that moving on, as I so often do, separates the wheat from the chaff... affinity wise. Those that stick, are those that belong. And I will forever adore them and they will forever be apart of me. I will never be able to leave them, even when I do.

Do not misunderstand... I do not move to weed out my friendships or even to test their bonds. I move because I'm antsy for the next new place, next new feel. It may be crazier, more dysfunctional, rougher, more beautiful than the last or it may not. The adventure of moving to the next is what drives me, not the need to sever ties I believe lacking... my ties are not lacking. I choose those that surround me with the utmost care, which blesses me and them alike. I have genuinely loved everywhere I've lived and every close friend I've made. I miss them and always will.

I write this because I am once again at the step before my next adventure and it just doesn't feel right. I don't feel the need or drive to move and for the first time the thought of the next almost brings me to tears. I never cry at my goodbyes, not really. It is frustrating and confusing. For the first time I don't think I should be moving on. I feel odd and this reaction to my beloved life of moving on is disconcerting. I'm not sure what to do next. I am floundering. My next adventure feels forced and therefore I am lost. And beyond all this the question beating my mind the loudest is 'What am I supposed to do if I stop moving?' And all I know is that, for the first time, I don't want to go.

The physical:
London, my final night
The desired:
The solace of certainty
The feeling in the forefront:
Life changing confusion
The smothering sense:
Tactile - the chill of a hollow room
In absence of misplaced action:
Peaceful sleep
If I were listening closely:
Winter Song by Caesars

1 comment:

  1. beautiful. you manage to catch an honesty through the emotion that i can only begin to offer in poor stead of it.