Between a river and a lake.
A sense of isolation in a new community.
I’ve alienated everyone I’ve ever known outside my family.
Alcohol fueled it, I think;
but what really caused M.to say,
“People do not want to come over when you’re around,”
Will resolution come around?
Will I be able to clean up and change hours?
Are hours (as in the time of day??) that important?
What am I doing at a wedding where I know only two or three people?
Building anew? Dreaming of old? Waiting to see?
An accident waiting to happen?
Hours mean nothing and everything.
I talk to myself more than anyone.
Work is all that I know,
well work, home, smoke, read,
sleep, eat, drink, movie, sleep…
A year has passed.
Not much has changed,
but I did buy a bike.
So now I ride.
Riding is progress, miles covered.
Slowly at first; but gaining daily.
“the temperature has changed”
if nothing else
M___ S____ died.
He was my friend. My roommate. My “Devil in my Ear”.
He was younger than me.
Seeing everyone together at once was overwhelming.
My anxiety was on overdrive.
I hadn’t spoken to many of these people in years.
Swapping stories reminded of Joan Didion’s comments
on what it means to remember,
how different people see things in different ways.
The same event—yet differently.
It’s all about perspective.
I’ve seen portions of the group since the memorial,
talked to a few more.
Getting back together is fun, yet older.
As we knew it would be.
Spending time with you is wonderful,
it feels relaxed and comfortable.
I wonder what is seen through your eyes.
We come from different times.
Meeting you has forced me to remember
that I’m not very good at these things.
I’ve screwed up many times before,
my anxieties take over, and I lose sense of who I am.
I don’t want to fall and hurt again.
I think that’s why I’m comfortable being alone for so long.
Every relationship I’ve ever had has ended in pain.