we are accidents waiting to happen

i went for a walk at dusk tonight.

i hadn't made that walk in ages. months, at least...maybe not since february, or march. it wasn't fear that kept me away so long, or shame, although some would think so; it was more that i didn't want to have to face things, i guess. pretend that it was another life, and too far behind me now to dredge up again. why bother, really?

then again, thinking on it, it might possibly have been fear, but not of the possible physical confrontation -- it was the fear of the memories, and the emotions, and the knowledge that i'd never been so content with things as i had been at the time, walking down that street, one year ago. it was the fear that i'd somehow want all that back - and the fear that i'd be saddened to see how it had all continued on without me - that was keeping me away. afraid of myself and my own likely feelings, i guess you could say.

twenty minutes' walk away from home, i stepped over that same old threshold, saw both new and familiar faces, was greeted with huge grins and hugs and a welcome befitting a long-lost sibling. (which, in essence, i kind of am. former black sheep of the family, more like.) not much had changed in the place since my year-long tenure - and my graceless exit at the end of it all - but even the smallest things that were different, i noticed. it was like coming home, if home was somewhere in a past that you locked away because you didn't want to admit you missed it.

then i guess it all clicked for me when i said to billy - my little brother billy - truly and honestly, "you know, it was this time last year - like, august and september last year - when i was probably the happiest i've been in the last five years."

in retrospect, it really was. well, not even in retrospect -- i think i knew it at the time, too. i was re-reading old blog entries from this time last year a couple nights ago, and there was one with a survey in it where i'd answered some question about whether i was happy with my life at the moment with something like "more so than i've been in a long time." i mean, the post-graduation months of 2006 were treating me well: i'd had montreal, i'd had chicago, i was having a beautiful summer full of new friends and making money of my own and having a possible somewhere to belong. the day-to-day drudgery of it was a pain at times, yeah, but on a whole, it was a good place to be. there was a happy present day and lingering hopes on the horizon, which in combination made me content with the way things were for me -- drama-free, surprisingly, but still exciting.

funny how it was around that time when a sort-of ex of mine (one whom i'm still friends with) said he stopped reading this blog. "it just got boring," he later told me. "it was just about, like, your work and day-to-day life. it was so ordinary."

and that, i think, was the crux of it. ordinary doesn't suit me. neither does contentment.

so when things headed south, i didn't stop it, or him, or myself. i simply went with it, knowing what i was getting myself into, but willing to put it - my everyday happiness and sense of comfort - on the line, if only because i didn't want to get too comfortable with things. that's not how i can live my life, not for very long at least. because with too much comfort comes boredom, and i refuse to have boredom in my everyday life. i can't have that banality. i live my life to be a story worth telling, and to lead a normal life would be the death of me. anyone even remotely close to me knows that.

and i'm still glad to think that i never fooled myself about it, not really; our affair took the course towards implosion just as i knew it would. it wasn't as messy as it could have been, and the repercussions could have been far worse, but the end result was always what i knew it would eventually be -- even though i'd gone through a period thinking (hoping, wishing) otherwise.

and so, seeing no other logical ending to it all, i left. as i knew i was meant to.

in the wider scheme of things - because i always try to look at the big picture - it might have worked out for the best; after all, i never would have abandoned them to go on tour with a band. really, they meant too much to me, and i would have never had the heart to betray them like that. i couldn't have traded in my day-to-day family for a new temporary one, even if the new family was a group of rockstar brothers. but my second "family" was not one i felt accepted into, nor did i feel as close to, so i had very little qualms about tossing them behind in order to follow my dream. (and that, i think, was a small triumph, or at least a begrudged admittance that i'd finally heeded his warning to me: "no matter what, don't let yourself get caught up in this place.")

also, as i always keep in mind, it was a learning experience. like i state on my facebook profile, "i'm always willing to fuck up if it means i'll learn from it." and i knew what i was going into, i knew all bloody along, but i did it anyway. took the suicide plunge. knew i wasn't gonna get out easily, or unscathed. but i saw those options, and i weighed them, and i considered the consequences, and i made my choice, knowing that whatever happened, i would be responsible, and i would take it on myself.

whatever happened, at least i'd learn from it. at least i would be back living a life less ordinary.

and so, amazingly and as always, i don't regret. really, how could i? how could i ever regret an experience that, a year down the line, could make something so simple as walking down a street while listening to echo & the bunnymen's "the killing moon" make it nearly impossible to breathe? how could i regret anything that made me feel that deeply, that could resonate so far into the future that i could still feel the same hurt and melacholy and happiness?

how could i regret anything that, no matter how painful and sad, could make me feel that alive?

(and then, my mother: "sweetheart, you've always felt things so much harder than regular people do.")

i look at my back in the mirror and see that the scars are still there. faint, but they're there.

...in a year's time, in one evening's walk, i've come to realize it's not about you, not about any of you in particular; not about you with the blue eyes who told me i was beautiful, not about you with your tragedies and your gift of understanding, not about you with the killer grin who played guitar for me as i sang, not about you with the gorgeous cat's eyes who looked out for me and looked after me, not any one of you. because you're all the same, really -- the same beautiful, terrible, selfish, heartbreaking musician who can charm me, pull me out of my shell and then leave me behind, cracked and bleeding as you move on to the next victim, as willing as i had been. because what you promise is something a girl like me, and others like me, can never resist.

i'm going to be leaving a lot behind when i leave toronto forever in four weeks' time.

whether or not i can escape the ghosts is another story.

[ music | placebo, "protège moi" ]