Oh, well I'm going home,The song is stuck in my head. I'm hoping it doesn't become an earworm such as What's the Frequency, Kenneth did that persists for years and years but at the same time it's easy enough that if it did, it might not bother me so much. Maybe I'll just listen to it a thousand more times and then it will stop looping within my head. Or maybe not.
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me
It's Ben's fault. He has the CD in his truck and I was a little surprised. It borders on country, no? Ben does not listen to country music. He says that sometimes expectations and pigeonholes are closer in the mirror than they appear and that I mellow him out. That I make everything so much more visceral emotionally and he isn't used to that. That sometimes he feels a little bit lost but then the moment I am beside him he feels home. Or maybe he said whole. I don't know, he has a quiet speaking voice and is sometimes difficult to hear.
I sat and thought about what he said for a helluva long time, I did. I wondered if I should agree, apologize or just pack and get the fuck out after all. Which is sort of what I did when I left with Lochlan.
Ben said he wasn't worried. He knew I was safe. He knew I was okay because I called him four times a day and sent him pictures. I should not have gone but I had to. I couldn't let Lochlan leave alone and I couldn't tour with Ben and yet look at all the rules, all the plans and all the impulsive moments that we strung together to build chaos. Look at this beautiful mess. Look at what we've done and marvel in the fact that any one of us still knows what day it is or can answer a few suggestions when asked what makes us happy.
Oh, yes, please pat me on the back for the hole I have dug is now far deeper than I am tall and a lot darker than I imagined it when I drew it on paper, held up against the glass with paper tape to trace the light.