Lost in the Lakes

I'll admit it: I've been a negligent blogger. Apologies.

I'm leaving New York next Sunday, in case anyone has thus far missed this announcement. The past two months have been at once about healing, recovering, and hedonism. Who knew I was so down to throw off the yoke of responsibility and just live for my own happiness? I've laughed more in the last couple of months than I probably had in all of last year. It's been fantastic.

That's the new word I'm using, too. Everything is fantastic. FAN.TAS.TIC.

Leaving is bittersweet. I just met someone I have a lot of fun with, and with whom I try to spend as much time as I can. But having been in two serious relationships over the past 5 years, it's really time for me to stretch my legs and explore. There's so much to see! So many places to go! And I'm tired of crying. I have come to detest trying to form my life to someone else's. At this point it's difficult for me to even form my schedule to someone else's. What's the point?

So I'm moving to Wisconsin. Fresh air, fresh start. Best friends I thought would always be there and would always be "best" are no longer and that hurts more than anything I've ever gone through. On, Wisconsin. It's time to confront these demons and move on.

Two things I want to do when I get there: run and write. Okay, and go to plenty of football games. I do love football. Write so I don't kick holes in the wall when I feel overwhelmed and angry and hurt. Write so I can convert weakness into strength through the deliberate placement of words onto paper (or screen...). Run so I can mold the energy that threatens to mutate into depression instead into physical ability and endurance. In short, I want to develop a multi-layered strength that used to live somewhere inside but that's been slowly disassembled and ripped away to the point where it's nearly impossible for me to deal with anything anymore.

There's been a lot of rage in my hair but it's calming now.

Next chapter, please.