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April 23, 2007

It's been a while

I wish I had the discipline to sit down and write through these hectic periods when my life turnstumbles all over again so I could at least look back and make some sense when the dust has settled. Instead, tonight at least, i have been packing dusty boxes and crying my eyes out intermittently as I try to accept the path I have chosen to follow. With each pile of books taken off the shelf and packed neatly away, some new shard pieces my heart.

The ongoing chant of what if, what if, what if all blurred together with the occasional firm, sharp and staccato 'just because'. The lunches loaded with meaning. The heartfelt kiss on a bench under an endless, star-studded sky as the universe whorled in a frenzy. The could have been broken heart. The possibilities. The possibilities.

The last few weeks have been exceedingly lonely and sad as is wont to happen at these times. A mess, a mess, a mess. Just as I snipped away at the myriad fragile threads that have tied my heart forever to this funny little town, I had another biting argument with my mum that somehow severed another tie all together. I lost faith in my family once and for all, after years and years of hoping, and clung to the warmth of another, who welcomed me with open arms, even when I was drunk and sniffly and just needed a cuddle.

I reverted to early teenage-hood at this time. I was resentful and self-pitying and treated myself with the disdain of a decade's worth of ignorance. I got raging drunk, did stupid things and lost my dignity in the streets of Carlisle. With the help of gentle friends and quiet nights - and unexpectedly a pair of sympathetic Jehovah's Witnesses - I climbed back into a semblance of myself before I came back to the place I love to start to say goodbye.

Someone I might have loved given the chance told me last night and today that he couldn't stop thinking about me when he lay in bed at night staring at the ceiling. He knew I was leaving and had to tell me so I knew, could feel content that the overwhelming desire to hold him close was not mine alone. Kisses that shoot fire to the pit of the belly and curl the toes followed, and followed. Firework kisses. Bottom of the ocean kisses. To this, too, I have to say goodbye.

I don't know what lies forthwith, and even less about why I am leaving. I am frightened, I think, that the peace I have found in so many ways while leaving here will somehow become brittle, disappear in the pounding hot red dust of inland Australia. The future is faceless and crimson and mysterious and I must, must, must breathe it in.