Lately, I have been missing New York, well, the east coast in general. So much so, I think about it nearly every waking moment of my day. I’m not sure what it is, or why it is, but it just is. It feels like someone yanked the plug and let the water out. My head is emptying right before my eyes. My care and desire is being drained.
I’m probably just blowing my homesickness way out of proportion. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure of it. I tend to do this. I glorify the past, hope for the future, and spit on the now. But this doesn’t help me; identifying the problem and still feeling so damn wrong.
I am not sure where I’m going with this. I’m never really sure. I guess it’s just right to put it down, that way, in the future, I can look back on it and decide if it was ever true at all.
Lately, I have felt like I’m on a long trip, a diversion just to get back there one day. I knew I would return sometime, I said as much back when we were leaving. The thing is, and maybe it’s because I’m so far away from all the people I love (excpet for one, my boy Toby. And he’s just the best. I can’t imagine my life, this life, here, without him. He’s unbelievably special, and as more and more people are realizing this around me, I become more and more amazed that he chose me) but sometimes I want then to come sooner. I want to meet my life now.
I feel like my voice is smaller out here, like I’m barely getting by with a whisper, though screaming. I find it hard to pick up the phone. I think, “No one will hear me anyway”. (And most of the time this is true. We don’t get much cell service out here).
Just now, something lifted me from the sofa and brought me to a book I read years ago. On the inside, before it starts, is a quote. And every time I read it, I get teary. I choke myself up. This quote, along with a line from Magnolia when William H. Macy says “I really do have love to give; I just don’t know where to put it.” are two personal favorites.
Below, is the other one. My goodness, do I love these few words. They’re like a perfect equation. A sound, profound real sadness. One that, dare I say, I envy.
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:_
I was much further out than I thought
And not waving but drowning.
I am sick for home. And it’s almost tangible. It’s almost phyiscal—my longing. My mind needs a vacation from itself.
(Toby, even though you’re sitting right next to me and I could turn my head and tell you this directly, I am so sorry you have to put up with all my stupid mental baggage and mood swings all the time. Believe me, I wish I could change that bit about myself. But things are never that bad. You know this. You also know that I love you dearly and no matter where we are, nothing will change that fact. And already I feel better just writing that down).