Today was...

Enlightening to say the least. I have truly managed to learn something about the back and forth situation I have some how found myself in.
At times, I feel as if I live in two homes. I live with my family and then I live with my girlfriend.
In one home I'm happy, not entirely a home or my home, sure, but I'm happy. Is that not enough to call it home? Even just for a little bit, I enjoy my jaunts in and out as I can relax a little there.
Then, there is my other home. With it comes everything I've ever done wrong stacking up against me at even the smallest of things I do. Bad or good, I hear every last mistake I've ever made. Over and over and over again. The past never truly dies here. It festers and rots in the wound.
In one home I can find a small bit of peice and quiet, rediscover things in old movies I once loved. Float around and not really accomplish anything, or maybe do a whole day's worth of chore (which aren't mine mind you) in about half the time or less.
But, the other home simply piles more things on my shoulders as opposed to trying to even things out or offer some kind of compromise. Everything is my fault, and all my words are, "Just rambling on, I don't care what you have to say."

Maybe my house is a place to be afraid of. For you, it brings the fear that my family will finally smash my resolve and force me to abandon you.

For me, it brings the fear that they're going to abandon me.

If I hear them threaten again...next time I'm going to use the window and give them what they won't bring themselves to ask of me.


Have you ever had moments where, slouched in a chair or after standing too long...moments where it feels like you're shorter...or taller...or at least viewing your world through a different perspective? Almost as if you're looking through your eyes with another set of eyes? Almost as if you're not associated with your own body? It almost makes the world feel like its slowing slipping out of perspective or you're slowly slipping away from it. Or some kind of disjointed strange image has dominated you...if that even makes any sense in the way I'd hope it to make...

It likely doesn't, I'm no longer good with words.
I used to be very articulate...good at shaping things with writing so as to describe what I envisioned. Now, I have lost that skill. I fumble blindly in my own mind to find words which describe something other than what I see now. The images are no longer as...vivid...the words are not as...powerful. I think I'm losing that part of myself.

I want to go fishing again soon. Or just again. I want to clamber out into my own secret place, away from everyone else with nothing but the trees and the water to greet my breaths. A slight mist hanging over the top of the bluish film as I lightly set down at the edge of a rundown dock, the mark that someone else once loved this place like I had come to love it. I'd want to share that with you. Quietly sitting in the morning sun and wasting the whole day with you. You could draw, or talk, or just sit quietly with me. I could hold the fishing pole lazily, casting without bait. Just for the sake of 'fishing'. I could listen with you...we could pack sandwhiches or ramen or nothing at all. Only our appetites for a long day alone without a care in the world. Leave our troubles at the door.

Some days. I just want to drive.