and you leave as single married or other...
For the most part the ones I've spoken with, they love living in a new city, as I do, but it's as if this love you have for the city is so fickle, in my case it's a place you do not bury your heart... a surface which can be relatively easily wiped clean... a new slate, attachment is a curse.
You soon realise you will not leave without emotional attachments...
It's like walking into a room you've never seen before, you take in all the little details the longer you stay in it, from the art deco lounge, to the sideboard with the vintage candlestick holders.
Everything is beautiful.. but as you make your way across the room, you start seeing the cracks that are forming on the walls covered in Florence Broadhurst* originals...
The worn parts in the floorboards... and the general disintegration of the place.
You start making your way to another door....picking up something on your way out... a remembrance..... and with that you're grasping the crystal doorknob... and wondering what awaits you on the other side.
This is living in a new city, you learn the city, and come to find all the beautiful things about it...
The different textiles, so it seems of life....
You see it's flaws... and learn to deal with them... and all the while reminding yourself of what you did have back "home"... home... ask people, they all have a different idea of what "home" is...
To me home is the epitome of a comfort zone, it's the place you know so well, and it doesn't mean it has to be a house, or town, it's just where you keep a part of yourself... with friends/family.... memories.... sometimes they make more of an impact on you then they did when that memory was the present. And you recall it with fondness... a fair exchange.
Homesickness is another flaw in the fabric you have to deal with....
In my honest opinion, it's like a bruise, that you are constantly knocking...
after a while, the bruise fades and you don't feel it as much...
and then soon there is only a faded mark, which caused you so much pain to begin with.
You never forget how you got the bruise... or who caused it (in this case your friends are the object) but it doesn't hurt so much... you miss everyone.. but you pacify yourself with the thought that they're surviving without you..
And plus your friends you've made from the "new city" are wonderful to have in your life. : )
And then you're gone, and just like that, the cycle starts all over again....
This is self inflicted. You will have no sympathy from anyone but the ones who are your fellow comrades in this journey, ones who have left the comforts of "home" just like you and found the world...you and these ones are joined together with a rope called "not from here"... might as well put a neon sign above your head, especially if you're a Blonde haired blue eyed person in a place full of the dark haired dark eyed people... : )
It takes some getting use to the stares... luckily I'm a big fan of the "stare" so I'm quite happy to unnerve them all and stare right back.... the medicine is oh so sweet when feeding someone else with the spoon...
With each city you live in, and then leave, it's like the walk through the room, you pick up something on your way out... you learn yourself... you grow... and you come one step closer to finding what you want....
In life, love and coffee.
Transition... the word of the day.
| *Florence Broadhurst was best known for her designing of wallpapers that epitomised the boldness of the 1960's style, she also dabbled in acting, singing and other. She was extravagant with money and economical with the truth......and was a true socialite of her time. | ||
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