I'm leaving with joy and a healed heart, because to this point, to this moment, I've always done my best to love everyone and do what is right. Naturally, I failed a lot, we all do. But I was actually doing my best to make good choices for myself and others. So that this phase is coming to a close, that moving on is in easy sight, I feel okay. Change is a challenge, yet when seen in the right light, a blessing too.
Each phase of living has forms of arrival and leaving. If we are lucky enough for these to remain in the realm of the symbolic, then we can remain with those we love and build a secure life that feels safe and dependable. For some, however, as fate would have it, these things are literal. There are times we literally have to leave and move on, alone. I've been doing exactly that since childhood. It would be nice to stop. It would be nice to feel a sense of being somewhere, with someone, that I could stay in a way that is ongoing. That would be great.
Leaving was my form of self protection. There was no other way to accomplish it, or to give myself a chance to recover. When that happens, leaving is not a choice but a duty.
There is a natural time for a bird to leave a nest, and this is healthy and right. Leaving can be part of loving, of showing that you are strong enough to do what you've been raised to do. As such, our loving bonds are ever there, ever strong, ever tangible.
It is time for me to leave, for good. What was going on inside of you at that time was difficult, from the way you behaved it must have been painful. Yet there are times we must protect the self, protect our own hearts and souls if the damage from a friend is too much. I wanted to walk with you through any and every storm, but it was akin to trying to hold a toddler who scratched and bit for years whilst alone. And though I tried, you broke me, literally, in pieces. So I'm taking this rebuilt version of myself, "Me 2.0," and I'm going to find friends who love me and treat me well. I would always stay with a friend in any storm, yet walking into the same storm that once left me for dead, not a chance in hell.
I walk down the street feeling rough cracks through thin soles, the wind moving as if I weren’t there at all, as if I were a ghost and nothing more. Through closed windows comes a jangle of tunes, all of them with as much flow as ice. And all at once the air is water and I’m drowning in this sea of indifference, desperate to swim up beyond cloudy skies to the stars above.
The cafe is ahead, its royal blue paint glistening in the first golden rays of the day. I can see the rain drops that cling, jewel-like to to the name, "Gloria's." Outside the sidewalk that will bustle in a few short hours is quiet, the concrete oblivious to whether it is midday or midnight. My face smirks upward at the sight of the flower planter to the right, the city has put in new blooms that will give us flashes of sunny yellows and hot pinks through the springtime. If I stop walking right now I can almost hear the heartbeat of the city, quiet, like the ticking of an old Grandfather clock. Though I'm in no hurry I keep walking, the cafe isn't my destination, just a microcosm of happy memories with Ryan. No, it's the train station I'm headed for and a journey north...
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