The Last Post

I got home a week ago today. It was a miserable, rainy day with thick air and low clouds, much like the kind of weather I'd so eagerly left behind in Belgium. It took about twenty hours of frustrated, sweaty travel to get me home. They'd painted my room. It looks nice but feels like a hotel room. The tree in my front yard is gone. My father does physio for his back now, to get him in shape for when he retires. That's pretty much the only things that've changed.

It's all blissfully, smotheringly the same. And despite my fighting I've returned to the same job I held for three years before leaving. Same people. Same drama. I can't keep spinning like this, so small changes are in order. This being one of them.

I need to start speaking my stories, my theories, outloud. I need to pursue new experiences for their own sake, not for anecdotal fodder. And I need to stop lying. Well, at least to myself.

I do this horrible thing when I meet new people who I really like and want to prove it to. I grant them rookie of the year status. Each year I find someone who I learned the most from and had the most fun with, and I give them this proverbial award. I doubt it means much to them, but if anyone were to give me such an invisible honour I think it might make me cry. Anyhow, just to let you know, internet, you were it, two years running.

Adam, today I was diagnosed with Complicated Migraines, which satisfies me in the way someone with ADHD accents the 'hyperactive'. I excel in my flaws. Thanks for being knowledgeable. And loyal.

Sara, our time will come, yours and mine. I'll keep my eye on you.

The rest, I hope one day to pass you on the street and smile at you by accident. And I'll keep smiling just in case. You should do the same.

Over and out.

I'm done. It's been a nice long run, take care of yourselves, and if you need anything, you know where to find me.