I'm leaving again, unwillingly. I've been leaving for the past eight years and it wears me out, harrasses me with dread, tires me with prolonged anxiety, makes my last week here a mere descent into future misery - the absurd pursuit of a college degree I'm not going to use, the deviation from passion, the delay from happiness, etc.
I suppose I'm horribly immature. I'm lots of things without meaning to.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Discrepancy
I found him tiresome, but the moment he left I wanted him once more. It's not indecision that plagues me, but an irreconciliation between reality and ideas.
The road was winding. Not a sound except barking dogs and dead leaves being crushed beneath our feet. There was no hurry. Not that I cherished him so dearly. I didn't mind his company. At certain moments it got a little weary, but no more weary than boredom is. For the most part he was just there . We were together out of my indifference and his willingness, but when I was alone once more his absence disquieted me. What was previously insignificant to me emerged as lost familiarity.
The road was winding. Not a sound except barking dogs and dead leaves being crushed beneath our feet. There was no hurry. Not that I cherished him so dearly. I didn't mind his company. At certain moments it got a little weary, but no more weary than boredom is. For the most part he was just there . We were together out of my indifference and his willingness, but when I was alone once more his absence disquieted me. What was previously insignificant to me emerged as lost familiarity.
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