yesterday, a friendship of mine died. I would like to think, of natural (rib) causes.
farewell, never fair-weather.
-b
I’m leaving.
On Tuesday I bought a ticket to South America for seven months. I’ve been planning this trip, talking about it, wanting it, begging for it, fighting for it, for almost a year. And now, I’m holding the next two months before I leave in my hands and suddenly I don’t want it as bad. Well…no…that’s a lie. I do, I want it with everything in my bones but what I don’t want is to leave everything I love behind. I don’t want to come back forgotten, I don’t want to see the love of my life with another girl and I don’t want to have to start a new life when I just had to for 7 months. I made everything about this trip, about me. It was my turn to have my adventure and it is. But I never considered what I could leave behind and what I couldn’t get back. I walked around so triumphant- that I am setting myself up for this big extravagant-soul-searching-journey that I became so caught up in what it meant for myself and I failed to consider what it meant for my friendships; my love life. I’m hardly scared to leave, but I’m already scared to come home. The world doesn’t stop when you are full filling your own personal endevours and I think the magnitude of that reality just came and slapped me in the face.
-b
every new song is a gift-it’s a song of redemption
This morning I received an email of apology from an estranged friend. Her words, came forth with sincerity-I do believe that. But through the months that we have gone, and lived as strangers has left me too cold to respond. I painted the image of her in my life with the highest respect and regard. In the early days of our growing friendship she introduced me to the music that I now define myself through. Her impact in my life, is significant to say the least-however in a time of turmoil she vanished. I have since filled the void her friendship once occupied, but her reflection has not left the revolving door that seems to be the consistent exit for the people in my life. And although she remains a hologram, echoing the distinct impression she once had, time has worn away my desperation to dig for her in my heart.
-b
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Lover, lifer, writer. Journalism student, and Vancouver freelancer. This is my personal blog with a lot of my own poetry and intimate entries. I am continuously inspired by successful, talented and innovative women, and I try to reflect that as much as possible. I hope you enjoy.
"Cento" Copyright © Andrew Brinker 2011.
