Teetering
I'm sad tonight. I'm not going to lie. After twenty-four hours in my old hometown visiting friends, the last place I want to be is where I am. I don't hate it here, but I don't like it either. Yes, one day it'll be better; it'll feel like home. I am so fucking tired of everyone placating me with that wisdom. I am also so fucking tired of placating myself with that wisdom. And, you know, it's true. Given time, Texarkana will seem less and less like home and Austin will seem more and more like home. I get it. I do. I've done it before. Once upon a time, Muskegon, Michigan was home and Texarkana was not. A few years later, I left Muskegon behind me for good. It's all good. It is. I'm over it. Home is where I am. Where I am. Period. The End.
What if I don't want this to be home? What if I don't want to leave Texarkana behind? What if I don't want to be here? What if I don't want home to be where I am? What if I want home to be where home is? What if I have no idea where that is or will ever be? What if I'm so lonely I could scream and scream and scream?
I'm tired of polite conversation. I'm tired of trying to get to know people. I am especially tired of polite conversation with people I'm not sure I want to know. It happens a lot here. I go out, get stuck talking to a bunch of people I don't really know (this is mostly because I'm not into drinking and acting crazy... I talk. It's what I do), then I find myself bored to tears and wishing I was anywhere but where I am. I start looking at my watch and buying drinks I don't need. After that I swear I will never go anywhere again without my car and the ability to escape. It's a pattern I don't care to repeat any longer. Of course if I don't go out, I'll never get to know anyone and I'll never feel like I belong. I'm fairly certain that I don't belong. I'm also fairly certain that I may never. This doesn't bother me as much as you might think. Sorry, if that sounds bitchy.
The truth is that I should fit with all the women I've met since moving here. We're all lesbians. That's enough, isn't it? Sadly, it's an urban myth. I don't like all lesbians. If I'm speaking truthfully, I like very few. I have incredibly high standards for the people I hang around and even higher standards for the people I call friends. That said, I am friendly with many, but friends with very few. Interestingly, I make friends very quickly. I either like a person or I don't. If I do, they're in. If I don't, I don't. It's that simple. Sorry, if that sounds bitchy.
Last night in Texarkana I was surrounded by friends. And for the first time in a long time, I fit; I belonged. I guess some of it has to do with shared history, but I never didn't fit with these friends. From Day 1, we were locked together. There was no question we would be friends. It was easy. I liked them and they liked me. I have little in common with any of them - I am different, definitely the odd duck. However, I am accepted for exactly who I am, not who they want me to be or think I should be. It's okay that I'm different because I'm a good person and good friend. That's all that matters to anyone. And when I think about it, we are all different from one another and we accept each other for who we are and the goodness we bring to the world.
I'm not sure when I will go back to Texarkana. As much as I love being there, I hate leaving. I hate the drive home. I hate the loneliness that starts seeping into my soul before I hit the Nash exit. I hate coming back to Austin and the comparisons I try so hard not to make. I hate the depression that seems to be getting harder and harder to shake. I hate that all I want to do is pack my truck, make the five hour drive back to Texarkana, and never look back (well, except at a few select people).
I'm not one to belief in regrets. I have lived forty years without any and I don't see myself starting anytime soon. This one is hard. I left a great life for this? Granted "this" isn't awful; it's probably above average in many ways. It's just not the same and not nearly as good. Yet? Yes. I'll go with "yet". I almost have to. I'm striving very hard to find Grace. I hope it comes soon. I hope this isn't one of those experiences that takes years to understand. I don't have years. Right now, I feel like I barely have an hour or two. I'm teetering that bad. It'll come, though, I trust in God to show me why and show me the way.
Tomorrow will be a better day. I know it will be. The memories of Texarkana will fade and I'll find a few small pleasures in my life here. I always do. I make it work somehow. I hate making it work. I just want it to work. I want it to be simple for a change. And for once, just once, I want to fit and I want the loneliness to go away. Home is right around the corner. At least I hope it is.
What if I don't want this to be home? What if I don't want to leave Texarkana behind? What if I don't want to be here? What if I don't want home to be where I am? What if I want home to be where home is? What if I have no idea where that is or will ever be? What if I'm so lonely I could scream and scream and scream?
I'm tired of polite conversation. I'm tired of trying to get to know people. I am especially tired of polite conversation with people I'm not sure I want to know. It happens a lot here. I go out, get stuck talking to a bunch of people I don't really know (this is mostly because I'm not into drinking and acting crazy... I talk. It's what I do), then I find myself bored to tears and wishing I was anywhere but where I am. I start looking at my watch and buying drinks I don't need. After that I swear I will never go anywhere again without my car and the ability to escape. It's a pattern I don't care to repeat any longer. Of course if I don't go out, I'll never get to know anyone and I'll never feel like I belong. I'm fairly certain that I don't belong. I'm also fairly certain that I may never. This doesn't bother me as much as you might think. Sorry, if that sounds bitchy.
The truth is that I should fit with all the women I've met since moving here. We're all lesbians. That's enough, isn't it? Sadly, it's an urban myth. I don't like all lesbians. If I'm speaking truthfully, I like very few. I have incredibly high standards for the people I hang around and even higher standards for the people I call friends. That said, I am friendly with many, but friends with very few. Interestingly, I make friends very quickly. I either like a person or I don't. If I do, they're in. If I don't, I don't. It's that simple. Sorry, if that sounds bitchy.
Last night in Texarkana I was surrounded by friends. And for the first time in a long time, I fit; I belonged. I guess some of it has to do with shared history, but I never didn't fit with these friends. From Day 1, we were locked together. There was no question we would be friends. It was easy. I liked them and they liked me. I have little in common with any of them - I am different, definitely the odd duck. However, I am accepted for exactly who I am, not who they want me to be or think I should be. It's okay that I'm different because I'm a good person and good friend. That's all that matters to anyone. And when I think about it, we are all different from one another and we accept each other for who we are and the goodness we bring to the world.
I'm not sure when I will go back to Texarkana. As much as I love being there, I hate leaving. I hate the drive home. I hate the loneliness that starts seeping into my soul before I hit the Nash exit. I hate coming back to Austin and the comparisons I try so hard not to make. I hate the depression that seems to be getting harder and harder to shake. I hate that all I want to do is pack my truck, make the five hour drive back to Texarkana, and never look back (well, except at a few select people).
I'm not one to belief in regrets. I have lived forty years without any and I don't see myself starting anytime soon. This one is hard. I left a great life for this? Granted "this" isn't awful; it's probably above average in many ways. It's just not the same and not nearly as good. Yet? Yes. I'll go with "yet". I almost have to. I'm striving very hard to find Grace. I hope it comes soon. I hope this isn't one of those experiences that takes years to understand. I don't have years. Right now, I feel like I barely have an hour or two. I'm teetering that bad. It'll come, though, I trust in God to show me why and show me the way.
Tomorrow will be a better day. I know it will be. The memories of Texarkana will fade and I'll find a few small pleasures in my life here. I always do. I make it work somehow. I hate making it work. I just want it to work. I want it to be simple for a change. And for once, just once, I want to fit and I want the loneliness to go away. Home is right around the corner. At least I hope it is.
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