Monday, December 13, 2004

flight

I've returned to foxtown, since Limetown has become too heavy. Or I've come to feel too heavy there, as everything that's been happening has become a weight on me. In my desire to fly away I've flown only home, or towards the only home I ever held that held me in return. I was getting the clear impression, in Lime, that I am either pathetic or a threat, in everyone's eyes. It is hard to say how, but I think I've seen myself, the image of me seen by others, shift from the pityable person they saw in the beginning, to someone to beat back against, to protect themselves against; their own footholds, their own claims to talent... The situation I thought I was in at Angel Studio has turned out to be something else; the illusion of safety, of comfort, has become a reality of turmoil and paranoid persons, resorting to desperate and illogical conclusions, in order to prevent the forseeable future from coming to pass. It is hard to say what really is going on; I had only to decide and say in silence in my mind: "I'm done-- I'm SO done-- I'm done with this..." and then ensuing events take place, to finish me off even faster. I feel as though the bridges are being burned behind me without my even setting them on fire. If I were to return to the track I was on, before the last year's series of disasters, would I ever hear of all those people I've known in Limetown, ever again? Would not the whole life that had gone by there, turn out to have been like some elusive dream, evading reason, evading comprehension, evading even memory? Were I to return to academics, to the world of teachers and assignments, where everything has an order and a reason and purpose behind it and the things we do makes sense, would I even be able to tell or describe to anyone the year as I've spent it, "outside"? At this moment I feel very forlorn, very full of longing for that lifestyle to return: that of studies and reasearch, that of that type of creation... I feel an immense pull from within, a gasping clinging to the memories, to the prospect of a renewed relationship, even more ingrained and focused than before... My first and last years at the college in Clear Mountain were consumed in overwhelming chaos, too constant to see outside... Actually, when I think of it, there was only one semester during that whole time when things felt real, felt safe, felt wonderful and acted like they were going somewhere... And they say that those four years are supposed to be the best of your life... Perhaps I'm just too ingrained in madness, in chaos, for my joys and my years of supposed pleasure to be made of anything else. Coming from chaos, going always towards chaos... I was in a state of desperation, to flee Limetown, to return to this panic-stricken town, which I have also gone crazy to leave in the past; it was as though reaching out for something, anything of firmness, of concrete actuality, some time in the past were at least if all sight and sound were in chains, at least they knew, like everyone else, that they were there, and also what they were.

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