Alas, I’m Back, part 3

So, we return for the third (and final) vacation reminiscing. I visited the city I have been, in a way, lusting for for years. It was like going to a different planet in some ways, and I’m really sort of trying to separate the overwhelming beauty of the city with the emotional response it triggered in me and balancing that with the realities of my current situation (divorced from the knee-jerk overwhelmingly negative reaction it elicits from me). It’s a cerebral and emotional journey, and at the end of it, I hope to reach a conclusion and a plan of action — to change things here to settle in, or to start the process of getting a job and moving hundreds of miles away.

With that said, we reach the final part of my journey there and back again (to rip off The Hobbit) and maybe this section will help elucidate the conundrum of my conflicting feelings.


The impact of this vacation on me emotionally cannot be overstated.

I knew that everything was gorgeous and beautiful and I was awed by all of it. But on my first long night walk with my headphones in, I realized something. I was singing. Yes, I’m a stereotype. I’m gay and I like singing. I’m also pretty good at it. But I don’t do it, or if I do, it’s sad songs and I only do it when alone. I was walking around and singing. Not full voice, but loud enough to where I noticed it. I was singing aloud without embarrassment or modesty, and all because I was happy. I literally cannot remember the last time that happened.

When I was there I didn’t have one nightmare. I was irritated only one time and that was with Google maps for changing my directions no less than five times. I wasn’t bottled up. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t dreading anything, and when Sunday night came and I was sad, my new friend came over and we talked and hung out and cuddled for hours. Conversely, I can’t remember the last time I WASN’T angry at home. Work, home life, relationships, whatever, it’s all infuriating.

I was open there. I talked to people. I laughed a lot. I looked at myself there and realized that so many things just aren’t important, things I get worked up over.

When I was leaving on the plane, I looked out at all the green, at all the city, at all around it, and I became profoundly emotional. Tears were in my eyes, and it wasn’t sadness at what I had to return to — that came later — but rather what I was leaving behind. Beauty, kindness, the mysteries of a new city, and someone special (even if he and I never talk again, my new friend was, all too briefly, very special to me…and it’s a moot point since we were just texting each other today. Something I sincerely hope continues.) As I watched all that disappear below me, I had to look away. I couldn’t watch it. I wasn’t sitting by the window, but the guy next to me wanted nothing of the view. He closed the window, only opening it again as we began our descent. Therefore, I was treated to a stark contrast. As we took off, I saw the verdant greens and thriving, living colors of the city I was leaving. The next thing I saw out the window was the brown and gray of my city and my life. It was like Dorothy leaving Oz to go back to Kansas. Only I never wanted to return home. Fuck this place. I HAD to return.

My first night back I had a nightmare about work. I jerked both my legs into a fetal position and was rewarded with the agonizing pain in my legs that I am so distressingly used to but hadn’t dealt with in my time in Oregon. That day I slept a lot and watched Forensic Files. It was like nothing had changed.

But everything has changed. I have changed.

I left with a feeling, the knowledge that I will not be gone for long. Saying goodbye was more like saying, “See you soon.” I’m always talking about taking a step back, of being able to see everything at a distance. I’ve done that. That city has everything I need and some stuff I didn’t know I even wanted.

So, I am left with an ache and a mission. I can’t stay where I am. I knew that before. Before, this magical city was a myth, a fantasy, a blank page I filled in all the details for with my imagination. Then the imagination was made real.

Nothing compares to it. So, when I said that I have some weighing to do, I wasn’t wrong. I need to look at everything and weigh it logically and emotionally. I need to let go fully. I need to prepare, because when I do, I know that things will go very, very fast.

And I can’t wait.

~ by Darren Endymion on April 25, 2016.

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