Looking for solid ground.
There is nothing less appealing (or more apalling) than NYC in the summer heat. I am so glad that when my brother visits it will have long since passed.
Class is beginning shortly and even though I would love to spend this stretch of free time writing, I really do need to find a new job. I was gently "let go" from the last bar I worked at, although a few weeks ago I had an e-mail from my boss saying that a position was opening again, if I were interested and "regionally secure," which of course meant I was not planning on jet setting anytime soon. I deleted it. I suppose G-Money didn't consider that in the few months I worked there I was pulling in the most business by far, and now it's starting to show. C'est la vie.
Over coffee last weekend, Danielle asked me if I am remorseful for dropping my life here and heading back to the home land this summer "for a guy." I told her I didn't look at it as walking away from one life for another, but that I went down the path that was necessary for me to be able to live with myself from that moment and beyond.
Liam got a new flat in Brighton. I moved in with him. It seemed the most practical thing to do to truly test if we could make it, and when I think about it, there really was no other way for our relationship to meet its demise. He has always said that we were born out of each other, that he never fully understood what it meant to be alive until that first time our lips met under his umbrella in the pouring rain. And when I left? He says part of him died that day, and I believe him because I've felt it too.
We had a glorious summer together and I believe that both of us knew this entire time what was on the horizon, although he swears he thought it would turn things around for us. I am not sorry, not in the least. If you never try, you'll never know. This is the man who has had the past seven years of my life, my first love, my only. But I am not seventeen anymore and summer romances are far behind me. He wants and deserves more. He wants a wife and he wants children and he wants family vacations in Switzerland. I cannot be everything that he needs right now, and he has waited -- he has been waiting for me for years. I am just not ready, and I am not sure if I ever will be.
"When you needed to be on your own, I understood your reasons for leaving. I hope now you can understand mine."
He didn't offer to take me to the airport. And although he's never asked for it back, I left the ring on the nightstand. When I got back to my apartment, three thousand miles away, I threw away everything that reminds me of him. We haven't spoken since I got home, three weeks ago.
There is no looking back now.
p.s. Michelle has sent me several picture-texts of her topless with the words "Do you miss me yet?" in the subject line. How many languages can you say "Tacky" in?
Class is beginning shortly and even though I would love to spend this stretch of free time writing, I really do need to find a new job. I was gently "let go" from the last bar I worked at, although a few weeks ago I had an e-mail from my boss saying that a position was opening again, if I were interested and "regionally secure," which of course meant I was not planning on jet setting anytime soon. I deleted it. I suppose G-Money didn't consider that in the few months I worked there I was pulling in the most business by far, and now it's starting to show. C'est la vie.
Over coffee last weekend, Danielle asked me if I am remorseful for dropping my life here and heading back to the home land this summer "for a guy." I told her I didn't look at it as walking away from one life for another, but that I went down the path that was necessary for me to be able to live with myself from that moment and beyond.
Liam got a new flat in Brighton. I moved in with him. It seemed the most practical thing to do to truly test if we could make it, and when I think about it, there really was no other way for our relationship to meet its demise. He has always said that we were born out of each other, that he never fully understood what it meant to be alive until that first time our lips met under his umbrella in the pouring rain. And when I left? He says part of him died that day, and I believe him because I've felt it too.
We had a glorious summer together and I believe that both of us knew this entire time what was on the horizon, although he swears he thought it would turn things around for us. I am not sorry, not in the least. If you never try, you'll never know. This is the man who has had the past seven years of my life, my first love, my only. But I am not seventeen anymore and summer romances are far behind me. He wants and deserves more. He wants a wife and he wants children and he wants family vacations in Switzerland. I cannot be everything that he needs right now, and he has waited -- he has been waiting for me for years. I am just not ready, and I am not sure if I ever will be.
"When you needed to be on your own, I understood your reasons for leaving. I hope now you can understand mine."
He didn't offer to take me to the airport. And although he's never asked for it back, I left the ring on the nightstand. When I got back to my apartment, three thousand miles away, I threw away everything that reminds me of him. We haven't spoken since I got home, three weeks ago.
There is no looking back now.
p.s. Michelle has sent me several picture-texts of her topless with the words "Do you miss me yet?" in the subject line. How many languages can you say "Tacky" in?