There is a hum to the city that I can never really tune out. It is a very low frequency. It is freight trains rumbling along the tracks, pressing the mud just a little further below sea level. It is traffic buzzing along the roads. It is the blinding light pollution that never lets me see any but the brightest stars. It is dogs barking and machines running and the endless chaotic psychic confusion of all the poor lost souls that surround us.
For some some people the noise is welcome. It drowns out the inner voice that screams of something deeply wrong.
For those of us who chose to listen to that voice, the city becomes intolerable noise. I feel bombarded by swirling energies on many frequencies. Oh, for the quiet of the country.
I fear that I have, once again, hurt someone I care about very much. But when the choice is between my own sanity and happiness or playing a game to avoid hurting someone, my choice is clear. I wonder why I get involved in the first place? I want to hope. I want to love. I want to feel safe. But every time I try it falls apart. I think I just change too fast.
Now I need to try to talk to someone who is an even worse communicator than I am. At least I have writing. Whenever I have these talks, I invariably wind up saying something that is true, but sounds extremely insensitive. I'm just not good at talking.
I don't know. The "city boy" with "country girl" relationship probably has an very finite lifespan anyway. If I can't live in his world, and he can't live in mine then......where is the future?
The irony is he doesn't even make time to enjoy all the things he loves about the city. Live music, great culture, fantastic food, what good is it if you are too busy working to ever get out and enjoy it?
And if you are too busy working to contribute time to your relationship than what good is that either? Why should it be a surprise that I am building my van to leave? What is there to stay for?
I have already accepted the loss. But my heart is heavy tonight because I know now that he feels it too.