When I arrived, the sun was behind me and to the right, just before I hit the wall of angry clouds. When I left, the sun was again over my right shoulder, a mirror image of 9 hours before, just before I hit the wall of industrial familiarity.

What a wicked cruel game, to leave the solace of you for this.

About a year and a half ago, I traded 5 years for far less than one. And I’m glad I did it, and I wouldn’t change the things I needed to learn, but the aftermath left me wondering who was going to pick up the pieces, or if it was even worth the bother.

I realized about 3 months ago that it was certainly worth the bother, and so I started trying to clean, clearing out space, neatening up, repairing what I could and throwing out the rest. But then, as roller coasters are apt to do, the apex from which I could see the entirety of the carnival, in all it’s colors and glory and myopic beauty – that peak dropped off with a quick and exciting suddeness and, with a jolt, began a long and maddeningly slow climb uphill.

Why is everything flowery metaphor for me?

There is something magical about you. I think it’s something in your eyes. I decided last night as I watched you watching something else that I was falling into your eyes without realizing it; drowning became a very real possibility.

And now I am sleepless, a state I’ve become far too familiar with lately. I am — where? A comfortingly instable place, one that is an old friend that I worried was gone. A crossroads, where there are too many options and not enough at the same time. A silent place of wondering and waiting.

At this very instant, I am too far away from you.