sunday morning

i guess it’s time to call a spade a spade (and no, that’s not a racist term, it originated in Greek times and refers to shovels).

I didn’t leave Denton. I fled Denton. And then proceeded to spend the next week and a half on my parent’s couch in my pajamas. I left Denton as fast as I fucking could. Why?

I’m still working that out. Partly post-graduation anxiety. Partly I just wanted to see my family, mostly my little brother.

But mostly I left because I needed to deal with certain states of affairs and I just didn’t feel like I could do it. And I’m still not sure that I can do what needs to be done, because I’m not even sure what needs to be done. And yes, I’m being frustratingly vague right now, but that’s because this situation is frustratingly vague. But the longer I leave it open, the worse I’m going to feel about it, because I’ve never been one to just turn and run from something. If I thought that moving an hour and a half away would put an end to things, I was wrong. In fact, all it did was move me. An hour and a half away.

Funny, how that works.

I need to go back, if I’m to have any closure on the past four years. I need to go back if I want to forward with the rest of the summer without being weighed down by four years of memories. Denton’s different now, and if I’m to live there, I can’t bitch and whine with bleary eyes about how I miss the way things were. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to bitch and whine—it is Denton, after all—but it’ll be bitching and whining disguised as snarky and witty social commentary, in true Denton style, and it’ll be done in crappy clubs and bars that I profess to hate but frequent anyway.

And so on Sunday I go back. I’ve spent way too long on this couch in pajamas watching the disney channel and surreptitiously chewing tobacco. It’s time to pull on some skinny jeans and a pair of boots, grab a v-neck, and start smoking again.