irina

Some things never change. And some changes never quite feel right. Sometimes it's better not to revisit your past - seeing it up close tends to shatter the sunny memory. You can't help but notice all the cobwebs in the corners. You wonder just how much you've forced yourself to forget.

Going home is like being stranded on a desert island. (With food and water... and my parents.) On arrival, I enjoy exploring and looking around, but ultimately there's nothing here that I haven't seen before. All of the stones have been turned, a thousand times over. Nothing is new - but of course the originals are long gone.

This place has become a ghost of itself, a distant memory of another lifetime - a lifetime I'd rather forget. The few friends I still know from this era are all gone now, mostly off to college, and of course I envy them slightly. The town is barely in walking distance, but there's nothing to do there anyways. And I haven't learned to drive yet, so I'm fairly stuck, temporarily crippled - that's the price I pay for my metropolitan culturedness. I'm not such a country gal after all - but then I never really was. I've never really been any kind of anything, as far as I can see; and as I said, some things will never change. Being home makes me think in smaller circles than usual.

Not able to sleep through the bus ride up here, I spent it watching the colored leaves rush by me. Fall is a beautiful season, but generally I don't like it much. It signifies the imminent arrival of cold weather, of frozen toes in bulky boots. It's a reminder of the inescapable disappointments ahead. Everything is fine now, which is nice. But I know it's only downhill from here.

But then, I'm stuck in the middle of it right now. As soon as I get out of here, this will all be null. Just a channeled manifesto from a person who I no longer am. So forget it. It's all meaningless anyway.