November brings change....

As soon as I told her, she said she was coming back. My decision was thrown off once again. I can't stay for her, but at the back of my mind, I wonder if at least it would be bearable.
And bearable looks better on transcripts.
After I talked to Mom, in circles, as usual, I cried at Friday night television. The show, Scrubs, a comedy, portrayed a dying woman and the doctor who was upset and afraid for her to die. He made her a list of all the things that he wanted her to do before she died. She told him she'd done all of those and then told him to take some time for himself.
And that's when it hit me.
I want to come home.
I read all of my archives, of this blog and my others, and I realize that they convey a large sense of discomfort. And I am a natural complainer, but not usually about things like this. I feel like my own soul is begging to leave here, and my writing displays that.
So,
I know where I want to be, and I know where I should be, and those are two very different places.
I think that I will know as soon as I have seen Denver once again.
I'm leaving for Oregon on Wednesday, and until then, I am focusing on staying the course. I asked Danny, just as I asked Mom, and he told me that whatever choice I made was the right choice.
I almost want someone to tell me exactly what to do. But then again, it's not like I'd listen to them.

Insomnia

A sort of insomnia has claimed my night. Sitting in bed, laying next to the teddy bear I've loved since I was little, a penny to remind me of him, and my phone, of course. Sex and the City playing on my tv. Season five, Carrie dates the city the whole time.
My mom didn't want me to take Buddy with me when I went to Chicago, but now that I have him, I am realizing that there is a point at which the teddy bear you've loved since forever has to go. And I will never reach it. I told him that Buddy was falling apart, and he told me he'd buy me a new one. That's the thing, though, nothing can replace him, not ever. He's the grossly gray, ripped and see-through love of my life. He's here with me, he smells like home, and I love him. And if he buys me a new one, I'll add him him next to my other pillows, but he won't ever be Buddy. Maybe.
I also can't wait. Nine days until Oregon. I've been sitting here lately, contemplating my life, reading old issues of Cosmopolitan, thinking about him. And me. And where we're going. I've done the lists, of pros and cons, added them up, weighed risks and counted my options. And after all of that, I'm not done yet. I'm going to give this my all.
Low battery.
Too much thinking and not nearly enough thought.
But...before I go, I will add to my strange new optimistic outlook on love.
Don't judge me. You were in love once. Or maybe you still are.


Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
~William Shakespeare, Mid-Summer Night's Dream, 1595



Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars, 1939, translated from French by Lewis Galantière


We loved with a love that was more than love. ~Edgar Allan Poe


Goodnight, moon.