through the window comes a cool breeze that makes me glad to be naked and wishing i could go walk through some meadow and feel the wind all through me, but then a motorcycle rips by loud and gutteral, louder than i can imagine one sound being. at night the trucks rumble so that you can't hear the movie playing or the sound of his voice.
i feel trapped here, somehow moreso now that i know i'm leaving. i'm caged in this room, this house, this city. i want real trees and clean water, i want shoulders that ache and are strong from hard work done every day. this litany of desire i've repeated to myself so many times i can hardly believe it hasn't come true just from pure needing. but i'm still here, caked in frustration and occasional anger, sliding down steep hills of unexpected joy. i'm deep in love, a love that has been truer than anything i've ever known and one which i'm about to let fend for itself for a year while i traipse all over the goddamned world because i can't stand this place or who i've become in it. i am not the girl he fell in love with a year and a half ago, and it is testament to his faith in me and love and life that he didn't leave me for it. that he came over last night in the middle of the thunderstorm to soothe my unreasoning tantrum and fall asleep beside me just because i needed it. i have abused his love, i know it, forced him away to prove he'd come back, pretended callous pride in the gazes i gather from other men. and after all this, i'm leaving. i imagine he knows that i'd be gone months ago if not for the solace of his eyes, a balm that provided both capability and reason to stay. he would be enough to keep me here indefinitely if i thought i could survive it, but i can't take another winter in this city that tries to pretend that life doesn't change despite three feet of snow. we aren't meant to trump to class and work and the grocery store when the world itself has burrowed down and wrapped itself in sleep. the seasons show themselves sharply here but we are expected to ignore them. what i want is a life that understands the difference between autumn and spring.
i feel trapped here, somehow moreso now that i know i'm leaving. i'm caged in this room, this house, this city. i want real trees and clean water, i want shoulders that ache and are strong from hard work done every day. this litany of desire i've repeated to myself so many times i can hardly believe it hasn't come true just from pure needing. but i'm still here, caked in frustration and occasional anger, sliding down steep hills of unexpected joy. i'm deep in love, a love that has been truer than anything i've ever known and one which i'm about to let fend for itself for a year while i traipse all over the goddamned world because i can't stand this place or who i've become in it. i am not the girl he fell in love with a year and a half ago, and it is testament to his faith in me and love and life that he didn't leave me for it. that he came over last night in the middle of the thunderstorm to soothe my unreasoning tantrum and fall asleep beside me just because i needed it. i have abused his love, i know it, forced him away to prove he'd come back, pretended callous pride in the gazes i gather from other men. and after all this, i'm leaving. i imagine he knows that i'd be gone months ago if not for the solace of his eyes, a balm that provided both capability and reason to stay. he would be enough to keep me here indefinitely if i thought i could survive it, but i can't take another winter in this city that tries to pretend that life doesn't change despite three feet of snow. we aren't meant to trump to class and work and the grocery store when the world itself has burrowed down and wrapped itself in sleep. the seasons show themselves sharply here but we are expected to ignore them. what i want is a life that understands the difference between autumn and spring.