shifting sands

It is a strange feeling. After the long build-up, the endless tedium, the coming together, the falling apart, the crashing together of lives, the shattering of spirits, the laughter snatched from nothing...it is a strange feeling to leave.

There is no fanfare, there are no tears. Where I might have expected a hug, there is only a goodbye. Relationships are nothing here, friendships are disposable. They put us together only to break us apart, and in the end, nothing is left to mourn. Goodbye is just that: the termination of what we are today, the transition to something new tomorrow.

I have fought to keep what little I have. And I have struggled to hold onto myself amidst the turmoil. I have reached out, at times welcomed, at times rebuffed. Whatever I said, whatever I felt, I have come to like this place in a strange way, to need it. It was part of finding my life again. It was part of finding me again.

When I return, should I return, things will undoubtedly be different. People arrive from nowhere, their dreams fresh, their pockets empty. People leave, angry, disappointed, full of questions. The home I have made will be traded in for a different model. I will move on.

There is a striking feeling of emptiness. I drift, unsure what is happening. I do not feel myself. I am alone, and no one seems to really care. I have tried hard. That is all I know. In the end, I have tried very hard.

I have a feeling nothing will ever be the same again.