I just packed up my entire room and vacuumed my floor, so now I'm only doing activities that do not involve touching the ground or needing things out of bags.
Strange that it's my last night in the apartment that I've had since early April- my first "Big Girl Berlin Apartment", if you will. I find myself again in a room that is not mine, with books I don't own, in a city I'm slowly saying goodbye to. It feels like the shitty/emotional end to a relationship where you're holding on to good memories and times where the entire world seemed open, where time wasn't an issue and your nails weren't clawing at the edge of the cliff, trying to change the inevitable... At the same time, I think about Seattle and Juneau everyday. i think about English in coffee-shops, about Fred Meyer, about the way the wetlands look when flying into the airport. Maybe it's like I'm ending a new and exciting fling to go back to my old, but trusted soulmate. Or maybe I'm passing up the opportunity to stay with the city I'm supposed to be with... Or maybe I should just stop listening to Mat Kearney.
As I normally do, I have buried my sadness (not even really sadness, neutral yet extreme emotion) in work and in play; staying distracted from having to think about leaving. But it's funny. I remember leaving Bremen as well four years ago and how the love you have for a place is mostly the love you have for the people you've experienced, and most of those people here are already gone. However, Berlin continues to bless me with beautiful, honest, raw individuals, who, in completely different ways and on completely different levels, have held me and loved me and let me cherish and love them. I don't want to leave. I do want to go home, but I don't want to leave.
Believe me, I'm not complaining. I have three homes in this world, when many have none. I'm just expressing the melancholic mood I'm in right now.
Love you all. And contrary to what I just wrote, am extremely excited to see everyone in September.
in peace and in love,
Tess
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)