I am not an adventure, I am not a cliff to climb, you don’t need to be protected from me, you won’t fall for me. You will leave. You will roam, you will climb, you will protect yourself, you will use ropes and metal and knots and never fall farther than you mean to, and I will be left here alone.
And I am not a home.
I Don’t Know What This Means For Us is what you had to say on the matter
I Saw This Coming was the only thing I could reply, and well, isn’t that the truth.
You will leave with the summer, leaving me behind, and I will continue to go to work every day and live on the weekends because the unfortunate fact is that I am Doing Well and Moving Up in the world and it would be really, really spiteful of me to leave the good I have been given here. I have no way of reconciling this desire I have to work and create and be useful with the pull of the road. Eventually I will be on that road, but it won’t be this Fall.
I can’t promise I won’t be spiteful and I can’t promise I won’t be mean, even though I am not really either of those things. I am just the woman you will leave behind, and maybe you’ll miss me one of those nights you are laying out beneath the stars and thinking about that first night we were on the road, in the depths of that forest looking up while we held each other quietly, both stunned that this was happening to Us.
Wasn’t this the Best Summer Ever?
I won’t wait around for you, but where am I going to go, really? I will still be here, in whatever sense, when you do return, if you do return. I won’t wait around for you, but I am out of energy to burn, I am out of the energy it takes to learn someone new. I am high and dry. I am a drought you are leaving behind, I am All Out.
I am tired, and tired of being tired. I will wait out the winter and hope for spring rains. I will sit quietly at night, in the darkness, and think about the places you might be and know that none of them are anyplace I could reach over and touch you.
I Did Not Want This.