Where I want to be,
And who I want to be,
And doing what I
Always said I would,
And yet I feel
I haven't won at all.
Running for my life,
And never looking back
In case there's someone
Right behind to shoot me down
And say he always knew I'd fall.
When the crazy wheel
Where will I be?
Back where I started.
-Lyrics from "Where I Want to Be" from Chess, The Musical
Life is at an interesting crossroads. I am moving to a new, old place, to try and start a new, old part of my life.
You see, I am moving "home". To a place I have lived before. To a place where I had thought...dare I say, hoped...I'd never live again. It's a place with a lot of history for me, a lot of emotion, and a lot of dead ends. I understand when they say "You can't go home again", because for me, going "home" means going back to a place where I was stymied and broken.
For Bun, home is just that: a place to go back to, to rest in, to relax and enjoy yourself after a period of adventuring out in the real world. He has friends there. He has passions there. He feels safe and secure and other assorted nice "s" words there.
For me, it's like a big, black pit of death.
Okay, well, it's not that bad. But those nice "s" words translate to some not so nice "s" words for me: shitty, stagnant, and super-filled with suck are ones that come to mind.
Every time I go home, emotionally, I regress. All the progress I've made is suddenly gone. It's systematic for me. I keep thinking "You are an adult, you are old enough to get the fuck over this!" but...I don't know. I guess I'm not. I'm thinking the emotional crazy of moving to this place is keeping me from packing. Ugh. I need to get started. But, for now, I am just going to freak out a bit and have another glass of wine.