The irony is not at all lost on me. It was a Friday that day as well, just a little under four years ago. I distinctly remember spending the first half of that boring day reading various sex blogs while I was supposed to be working, something I had been doing for a few months at that point. Mainly I was just looking for a way to help speed the clock along. After a little while I figured I could kill a few more hours if I started writing one myself.
I sometimes think about how that day has so greatly impacted my path over these last 4 years, it started in motion a chain of events that I wouldn’t have believed if you’d told me back then. That little domino chain moved me halfway across the country and back, found me falling in love and having my heart broken and left me generally wondering where the hell my place in this world is.
I won’t pretend to know how to frame this chapter of my life in the grand scheme of things, I have a feeling it is going to take some years to gain an understanding a bit further removed from raw emotions. One way or another, this little adventure has brought me home and left me with so much to process that most of the time I don’t even bother.
I liked to think that when I put that ring on her finger that this blog would finally outlive its usefulness. Man plans while God laughs, right? It seems this is a hard thing to kill. It seems this whole thing is hard to kill.
For some reason I keep looking for closure, regardless of the fact that I know I won’t ever get any. I thought it might ease some of the slowly fading pain, but I’ve come to discover that it only prolongs the forgetting process. I, however, have a distinct feeling that this is not something I will ever forget, nor is it something I am meant to forget.
I walked through that old neighborhood on the last day of 2011 and sat on the steps of the high school across the street from our old apartment. I wasn’t meeting my friends up in the Bronx for a few hours, I wasn’t in a hurry. I wasn’t there to do anything stupid, more so just to try and find some sort of comfort on that street corner in Brooklyn. I dropped the note with her name on it in the mail slot, lit another cigarette and looked up at the light in our old place one last time as I walked away. I never did hear back from her, which was not shocking, I just had to say that last thing.
From the first day I started writing this blog until that last day of the year I have had some of the happiest and some of the most painful moments of my life. So with that being said, if I could go back to the start and fix everything or do something differently, I wouldn’t.
See, in one sense I am actually back at the start. I’m back at a desk doing a job for the same pay as I was four years ago. I’m looking out the window watching the snow pile up and hoping five comes soon. It’s Friday and I’m bored at work so here I am…back at the start.