a specific home I'm looking for

It’s been more than a year since the day I set my life ablaze and I regret nothing. But what am I looking for?

I listened to a lot of Lana del Rey’s Norman Fucking Rockwell last week, but I stopped. I accidentally left my dirty underwear on your floor this morning, left my toothbrush at the sink, left my jumper hanging from a hook in your bedroom. It’s April. I honestly thought I would have mastered being a calm horse by now.

There’s a lightness in me, there’s a heaviness in me. I sit on the sofa in my own home. A thick black fly buzzes around. My roof is all beautiful wood. I’m trying to create an atmosphere that’s homely, cosy, light. I’ve painted the wall butter yellow and draped my big sky print over a railing. There’s fresh spring flowers and baby plants stuck in wine glasses filled with water.

I feel wild, always. It’s been more than a year since the day I set my life ablaze and I regret nothing. I do not miss life in the city, I do not miss its pace. I’m adapting to town life on my own and pretend I’m in Stars Hollow and I’m the village weirdo. On Tuesday it dawned on me I was going to do this bit by myself and I cried all day. But here – I can walk to a beautiful garden, sit on a bench in the sun and cry.

I’m a yearner at heart. I push myself forward by attaching myself to future worlds I could inhabit. So I’m trying to get out of the headspace there’s a specific home I’m looking for. An exact location that’s just perfect for me. All while at the moment, I’m just a gal who crosses time and space to be with you. I sit in my car with the radio on and I drive back and forth between places. I’m doing nothing I don’t want to do.

My ex-partner asks me whether it’s not too soon. But I made the decision last year to not rely so much on fear any longer. I go in heart shattering.