jeeeezus christ ... whatever

Current mood: drunky-face

i'm currently sitting in the dining room of my mom's house, a wee bit drunk, thinking about time and space. like how this town feels almost like sandpaper on my skin, but also not. i was talking to my oldest friend in the world a few days ago, trying to explain our difference of opinion about this place. and i realized the heart of the difference. he lived here as an adult, as a person with a job and a car and a girlfriend that wasn't me, able to drink in all of the bars that card too strictly to let the likes of us in a few years before. i left this place an 18 year old bag of emotion and fear, very rarely to return. and i realized the problem i have with this here and now stems from that. i almost don't know who the hell i am here, as if the person i was erases the person i am, as if the emotion and angst and unbridled joy and deepest of sadnesses of the past negate the experiences i've had afterwards the minute i cross the town lines. does that make sense? i hope so. at the very least, it does to me.

so it's important, to me, that he is here, this oldest friend in the world, a person who knows me inside and out, who can see through all the bullshit i spin, but also knows when the hell i am dead dead serious. it's important to have someone that is so close so nearby. he didn't understand, at first, when i was trying to explain this phenomenon. he said, "but everyone you knew is pretty much gone. close by, yes, but not where they were. the people are not the same, so what is the problem?" but it's not the people. it's the physical space that sets me back. granted, the people make a slight difference. but i know now that even if the buildings were switched all around, even with graves street gentrified instead of full of house parties, even with joe's pizza so overrun with customers, and even with downtown even more crowded with boutiques, this place does something to me. it takes me back, to a place i'm not sure i want to be.

but, really everything is ok. i'm just glad to put a diagnosis, of sorts, to the uneasiness i have about this place. and i'm overjoyed that there is someone here to hold my hand, to take me for drinks, and to tell me to stop being so damn emotional. that it's all going to be ok, after all.

old friends are very often the best.