Back home. Around 100 miles further from most of my friends, but 100 miles closer to the one I want most to say hello to. She’s still around 1600 miles away by car. I have not driven 1600 miles total in my life, but I seem to have driven her away faster than I could have ended up by her side. I want to try again, to start again after this false stop, not to start over, but not to stand still. I want to talk to her. Something’s gone wrong, my mind clouded with her, and through the fog of my own thoughts and emotions I can’t even see the face of the cliff I was sure I was falling from, or the point where I stepped off. “That’s What I Get” by Nine Inch Nails just started playing not-exactly-randomly on my computer and the lyrics hit home, and I almost started copying them into an email to Canada. Man. Where am I?
I probably shouldn’t even be saying this much. I probably shouldn’t upload that volley. None of this means as much as you think it means, if you think it means much. Ask.