#143; I feel you in my heart. I don’t even know you.

And this is the part where the new truth settles in.

I ♥ Ben Lee & coffee & plaid & Tegan and Sara. I think I had forgotten those things. I have forgotten so much. Like how fucking amazing it feels to write, to dream up characters and let them speak to you. I’d forgotten how good it feels to have someone notice when you’re really tired all day because bad dreams kept you up all night. I had forgotten what inside jokes feel like, because for so long in DC absolutely everyone was so in on everything. I like having secrets again. And having my own time – my time isn’t that of the GOP anymore, and I never feel bad about missing Church because I haven’t felt comfortable at Mass in years and it’s about damned time I admitted as much and only attend when I actually want to be there. I had forgotten what it was like to have someone not know absolutely everything about you (or rather, to want to know, to need to learn).

I’m seeing so many differences these days, between my years in DC & my short life in SoVA – now that I’m post-three months removed (Sept. 17th was the sort-of-anniversary) – and I don’t compare the two anymore. I just see the differences, and appreciate both. I’m getting to the point that I don’t miss the District. I miss people there; I ache every single day missing them so much I wish I could cry more easily and maybe get the hurt out. But I don’t miss my life there, or the city itself. For so long I felt like leaving would be tearing a hole in my body; literally having to extract myself from that specific oxygen, having to reteach myself how to breath… But I don’t mind it so much. I’m not saying I feel entirely at ‘home’ here just yet, because that’s too important a concept to bestow after two months & a handful of friends, but I don’t know that DC is ‘home’ anymore either. I’m okay with that, and I still believe that someday I’ll go back. But things will never be extravagant or infamous here and I’m absolutely loving that fact. The way we lived in DC was so open – so free of secrets or quiet or loneliness and I suppose that was the point – but to see the other side… I feel more balanced. More myself. I’m still open and outgoing and social and unstoppable when it comes to working a room (even if it’s just the little college bar we frequent late at night for cheese fries and PBR), but I’ve learned to turn that off at the end of the day. I’ve learned to slip into my own skin, not keep the mask on for too long. I’m not surrounded by politicians; I’m not feeling so false, so worn thin here. [This is MY ISSUE, not DC’s, I know. I know plenty of people in DC who live genuinely and happily and my lifestyle there was all my own doing, I know… But I never seemed able to escape it while I was there, and here I am just three months later learning how to grow in this brand new way.] I couldn’t be more grateful.

I know I’ll go back. At least, I’m pretty sure. At some point. Most likely. But I’ve surprised myself to find I’m not so concerned with The When or The How, anymore.

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