Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Until Then


It’s painfully still in this downtown apartment. Hours pass before I blink and wonder what’s next.  I’m comforted by the sound of cars whizzing by and airplanes roaring overhead as the smell of smoke rises from the jazz lounge on the first floor.

It’s just enough to remind me that I’m not as alone as I feel up here, away from the small town homeliness I’m trying to forget.  

I had myself convinced that this place would be everything I needed to shape the life that I wanted. It all made perfect sense just a few short months ago. I’d be a young professional in the city with a PR/advertising gig by day to pay the bills while the nights spent writing in the coffeehouse on the corner would keep my soul alive.  I’d become friends with the single strangers in the quaint little caf├ęs on Saturday afternoons. I’d be busy. I’d be full. I’d be content.

But.

It’s empty. All of it.  And harder to fill than I ever could have imagined.

I’ve had trouble finding the words lately. The feelings. I know they’re there, but I can’t reach them.

Until then, it’s just me, the sounds and the stillness.