My Two Month Anniversary Of Living In My New (rented) House.
It’s An Old (buit between 1925-1929) House That Was Converted Into Two Units. I Reside In Unit 1/A. It’s The Larger Of The Two, Due To The Screened Porch And Number Of Rooms.
I’m Still Not 100% “Moved-In.”
7 Boxes Still Not Unpacked (All Master Bedroom). And I’m In The Process Of Buying New Furniture. *(A thing in life I have not done in five years).
I’m Still Have To Purchase A New Couch, Coffee Table(have not own one in 8 years) End Tables, Kitchen Chairs.
I Have Purchased A Console Table, Office Chair, And A Cat Box(litter box) That Looks Like An Accent Piece.
Strange. I don’t feel at home. I just see a different space in a larger town farther away once more.
But, that’s not on my mind, my agenda today.
I’m still in mourning. The loss of many and pieces of myself these past two and half years.
One face in particular that lingers among me.
I promised myself I wouldn’t listen to this song anymore too many memories, feelings.
“But still the warmth flows through me And I sense you know me well No luck, no golden chances . No mitigating circumstances now.” Peter Gabriel
On October 5, 2016, he called me on my cell phone, he thought I was dead, or the possibility of it all.
He voice mail, haunting. Asking questions like, “I hope you’re ok. I hope you get this message.”
That was the beginning of our confidentional (working) relationship regarding things that are painful, torturous, private.
We talked almost everyday. *(Part of the Job). We got to know each other somewhat in a place that’s still respectful but not inappropriate.
We have not spoken since May 29, 2017. I feel he had to become a stranger given the situation and what and how it all happened.
It makes me sad. I hoped to maintain a Friendship wherever we both remained. But, as my life has continued in these past 2.5 years, another loss in the book. It’s as if I’m not meant to hold onto anyone anymore, no matter the type of relationship it is, I end up with death. Literal and Metaphorical. *September 9, 2016, My Best Friend’s Death, The Worst.
To be haunted by spirits that cannot move on is an easier task to accomplish. You can ignore it all and you can go on living.
To be haunted by people who are alive but are gone leaves you invisible in your own existence, a suffering so infinite you wish you were underground.