thoughts on my last trip
- "new orleans was more of a plane crash than break up." a friend said this in his own livejournal, and while my own trip lacked the ending of a relationship of romantic nature, the phrase still echoes my own feelings of the trip. so many times, i told myself i shouldn't have come back... of course, i don't entirely believe that; i had left rather suddenly over a year ago and hadn't come back to tie up loose ends or what-have-you. however, this trip didn't have quite the therapeutic qualities i was hoping it would. in the time preceding the trip, i was becoming increasingly lonely and inconsolably depressed...i'd cry "i want to go home" over and over and over again. when i finally made it back, i felt only reinforcement in the idea that existed in the back of my mind...that it wasn't my home anymore. it's not the changes in the city in the past two years...it's the people that used to exist around me. i felt as if only i had been waiting for that time...the rest had moved on long ago. there are so many things i wanted to say and share, but in the end, there wasn't any point. i left with, once again, no one to see me off, but this time, i feel little remorse. in a way, i feel as if a weight has been lifted from me, as so many things i subconsciously shackle myself with are now null. i still feel nostalgic or bitter or lonely over it, and this current place is still very, very cold, but i have resolved to move on and try to live my life selfishly, unapologetically, and without looking back.