Last night looked like takeout sushi and 3 PBRS. It smelled like leftover mashed potatoes heating up in the microwave. It felt like lonely- the feeling I get when I am stretching my body out as far as I can go, for someone to meet me halfway to make a connection. I fall asleep with my hand still hanging and wake up with sore legs. It’s funny to think I used to enjoy being anonymous.
Maybe it’s the impending holidays, or the fact that since I’ve been here, I haven’t met anyone particularly reliable. While I love the city itself, there’s a piece of me that misses feeling comfortable.
Boston-where everybody knows your name.
My ever shrinking city.
I swear I smelled the ocean today. I was in the stairwell of my apartment building and it was misting outside. Right before I opened the door to catch the bus I tasted fresh salt and cold water. I closed my eyes and pictured my favorite spot on my favorite beach back home, and took a few deep breaths before opening my eyes again.
Sometimes I wish I could go back there-to the ocean, the quaint bars in Harvard square and my little room on Dorchester. I wish I could have coffee one more time in kitchen with my old roommates. I miss that awful plastic table cloth and several friends living upstairs.
I wish I could go back to people who inspired me too cook. The people who inspired me to dance to funk music. Painted shower curtains and the roar of the redline overhead.
I miss the commons and the homeless gentleman that would shout the weather report as you walked by for change. I miss being able to lean on the feeling even when I was by myself.
I know I’m still in the thick of this transition, but I’m so tired. Even when I’m happy, I’m so tired all the time.