I have now moved to San Francisco, to go back to school. Sweet jesus, let this work out for me. I've never lived on the west coast, haven't been to school in years, and have only ever visited SF once before. I took a hell of a chance coming out here. Here's hoping....
I've decided. I am fucking OUT OF HERE. New York, you've been fun and all, but I need a change. You've made me more jaded, cynical, and generally unhealthy, and I have to leave you for a while to get myself together. Perhaps we'll meet again, perhaps not. But it's certainly been a nice ride. Thanks for that...
Things are finally getting a little bit better. I still have a lot to work out, and will soon be seeing someone to help me with that, but I'm finally starting to feel good. Happy, optimistic, motivated. Sure, things turn the other way, but given all that's going on (a lot of which I'll get into later), I think I'm doing fairly well. Let's hope it sticks.
Remember in college when everyone had that "genius" plan that they would buy some huge factory, fix it up, and have all their friends live there? I still think that'd be awesome. But it would have to have a farm. Something to allow us to live off the land if we so choose. And art spaces. Spaces for painting and music making, and pottery and shit. I think in reality I'm looking for an escape, but wanting to keep my friends close. To just start over. But I guess that age old bit of advice is still true. That you can't run from your problems, you just have to deal with them. Too true.
Breakups suck. We all know this. As common as this knowledge is, however, reminding ourselves of it seems to never get old. There is no worse feeling I can think of than to know that although you may know you're making the right decision by breaking up with someone, you also know how much pain, anger, and confusion they're going to go through once the deed is done. I know I made the right call. But I have now caused her to be constantly anxious, unsure of herself, moody, angry, among other things. She can't sleep, she can't eat, and I feel like absolute shit knowing that I'm the one that has done this to someone that I used to love more than anything. I know it will pass, and she'll find her place in the world again, but she doesn't deserve to feel the way she is. "Time heals all wounds", right? I certainly hope so, cause this shit hurts like hell.
