Please let me leave

I’ve always felt a kinship with the city; the rough pavement and structures that are built from steel and concrete by men in hardhats. The world of the city is solid and stable. It is filled with people commuting. They are commuting to work or commuting to lunch or commuting back home. Home will be out of the city and they get their in traffic in cars or in buses to hide in their apartments. No one is ever just sitting in a city. No one says “Let’s spend a day in the city” without plans and destinations and a wallet full of plastic.

You don’t need to think about yourself or your life in the city because you are too busy. There is just too much to be done, to keep you moving. There is no break and no relaxation in the city.

There are no friends in the city. The interaction is with untrustworthy co-workers or strangers. If there are personal relationships in the city they have been imported and feel a bit alien to the space.

And it’s here that I felt at home. Because no one paid any attention to me. But I was not alone. I could be anti-social in a crowd of people and then I wouldn’t have to spend time with myself. Because my greatest fear is time spent alone with myself.

But now I’m not alone. For the first time I’ve found someone who fills my day and my life and my heart. Now I have no use for the city. The city is loud and busy and my home is quiet and soft.

I’ve found myself becoming increasingly irritated just stepping out of my door. It’s not that I long for the country but I just want some quiet. Thinking about myself isn’t as scary as it used to be and homemaking is even looking attractive.

As for nature, the fresh air and stars and green plants: I’d like to meet them again. I’d like to listen to the world and it hear it breath, not cough.

Where does knowing all of this get me? To a chin that is held up by an elbow on a big desk, day dreaming about gathering my things and heading for the hills.

But really… not anywhere.