It seems to happen in increasing regularity lately...
That feeling to which you've pointed out to me countless times...


Standing on the edge of my driveway under the incandescent glow of the flickering streetlight contemplating life, and the things which lead me to that moment; the drizzle providing that extra sense of gloom, impending feelings of suffocation, loneliness, isolation. The hired moving truck reaching the bottom of the street, rounding the corner and off into the distance, carrying with it loved-ones and thoughts of far-away places. This is 'me' now. This is who I am. The moment, and all surreality lasted for what seemed an eternity, eventually being replaced with silence. The silence of nothing.

For what its worth, it's far better than what it could have, should have been. Its home, [now] and then its not. Judge me, please, but the thing its missing most is not the furniture or people, but rather the little things that tell you 'someone else live here'. The rearrangement of the fridge, the damp 'other' towel, the dirty dishes in the sink. Somehow the knowledge that everything will be just as you left it is quite terrifying.

And if you haven't got this much yet; these are my insecurities coming out.

Next time I come up; I'm bringing my cat [I've decided]. [Now I just feel like some lonely old person].


H.