Digital Raven (digitalraven) wrote,
Digital Raven

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No Direction Home

Can't stay. Too much going on in my head. Too many fights, stupid arguments about nothing much with the parents and my brother. I've left my job, and it's too late to find another. Everything's packed up, and for the first time in an age this place isn't my home. I've done everything I can to make it feel that way, networking up and setting up, filling wardrobes with my clothes and drawers with my stuff. Making my mark again. But all that's gone. There's nobody but family left. I can't stay.

Can't go. I've been here for eighteen months. I've moved back,, in spirit if nothing else. I don't want to leave the stability behind. I don't want to leave my family, who -- despite all the arguing -- I care about a hell of a lot. I don't want to face looking after my own place again. I've moved back here, and the emotional realignment to get to the point where I consider somewhere else as a home rather than a place that I happen to live is going to crush me. I've little enough time to get settled once I move in. I can't go.

Nothing I can do. It's out of my hands. Plans set in motion months before are finally coming to pass. The build-up is just about over. Time to see what the result will be. Nothing for me to do but drift along with the tide, unable to swim against it even if I wanted to. And by all the Gods part of me wants to try. Try to take these plans, these threads I've woven into the loom of fate and undo them or avoid them, slip to one side and have my threads never tangle with them. Nomatter how much I know that it's impossible, I still want to try. I want to stay here some more, despite not liking it that much. I want things to stay the same, just for a little while. Put the change off for a month, so I have time to prepare.

Perhaps more than anything, I want to go for one last cigarette. I don't think I can handle it, though. Not in this state, not right now. So, for the first time in too long, I spend a whole day smoke-free, fearing one last night spent behind the garage with cigarette in hand, looking out at the world. Fearing what it will do to me.

Listen at me. Playing the homeostat role to the hilt. But at times like this I can't help it. I don't think I'll ever truly embrace any major change in life when it happens. I was a wreck for my first fortnight in Germany. There's nothing I can do to change that part of me. Don't know whether I'd try. That's the part that keeps memories, little things like pens and bus tickets that set off cascading memories when I encounter them all of three years later. I like that part of my brain. Because if I didn't have it, I'd forget. I can't bear the thought of forgetting.

I'm going away. Nothing can change that.

I need to sort a connection out at the flat. Until then, I'm going to be very quiet. It could be a couple of weeks, it could be more than a month. I'll be able to post through the palmtop, and if I can borrow time online with other people I'll be able to get to my gmail.

If you need me before I get back: digitalraven{at}gmail{dot}com

I'm going away. You all be good. I want one thing to stay the same once I'm gone.

Hull, early morning of Feb. 26
Feeling far too fragile

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