silverrevolver

That's it, the bottom fell out. Something snapped. I think it all started with this song:



I was on the tran to work and I found myself crying. At the top of the station I usually turn left to go to work, I turned right. I got a coffee and sat a minute.

This song came on:



Hearing it, I knew why I'd been crying. There is a place in North Portland, maybe you know it. At the far end of Mississippi, there is a field with a tree and a tire swing, from there you walk down a hill under the freeway. You can see the skyline all the way down. If you were ever lucky enough be walking at sunset big pink would glow orange. It was the place that always reminded me why I loved that city so much. I wa crying because I have been unhappy for a long time, a slow creeping unhappiness, the kind that wraps itself around your heart like a briar around a fence. I wonder if I will ever be happy untill I go back, someplace where people know me, care about me, understand me. It's the lack of understanding that hurts most.

I got on a train to London. I didn't tell anyone, not even her, although she figured it out when I didn't come home. London made me feel better, it's like New York. So in a few weeks I will make an honest attempt at living in London. If it fails, homeward bound. I've felt so fragile since then a creature of whims. I'm sorry to push you away, but this is my battle, we'll be fne, just have patience. I think you know that. You don't know everything about me yet, when I cry it's because I have so much hope.