Aug. 14th, 2008

Sometimes I wonder if part of me is still holding on to the idea of my high school boyfriend. And that I had myself so convinced I was in love with him that I'll never be able to let go.

And then I stalk all of his friends' myspaces until I find new pictures of him and realize what different places we're in right now and how I could never ever ever go out with a guy who never shaved or bathed that infrequently, or hang out with a bunch of guys getting trashed off PBR and playing Rock Band all night, trashing up the room with smoke.

The thing is they're not bad people. And they're not gross. They're wonderful, very intelligent, well-read people who are very close to music and life and the mountains. It's this weird underground Appalachian new music culture that's part old punk and hardcore and metal and still everyone thinks the fiddle is totally boss. And they're great people who care about things and have ideas and want to stick around here and make sure it stays awesome.

It's just that they're not my people. I'm city lights and white-painted walls and I'm much more likely to go for something like a pomagranite martini with orange peel garnish, watching Project Runway all night and having conversations about the relevance of theatre in today's society and going off on a couple of tangets about celebrity and the paparazi and how my roommate's x-boyfriend was a douchebag.

It took me a long time to really come to peace with this about myself. Because I've never been one of those people who never regrets anything. I regret everything. And there's about ten million little moments in my life where I can look back and say, "if I just would've done this, everything would be different. I would be different."

So obviously I wonder what it would be like if it would've worked out.

It probably would've ended soon after, but you know. I'm kind of glad it ended when it did, with minimal drama. Because he became a different, fascinating person who leads a life full of fun and smiles and music and I became someone who is driven and aware and well. Someone who thinks first sometimes, instead of just doing things.

And I no longer wallow in my misery and I help people and I keep my mouth shut about shit I know nothing about. And I can admit I'm wrong and I don't do things just for the cool factor.

I don't necessarily wear my heart on my sleeve, but I'll admit I have a heart now.

And honestly, I've gone from 11 years of horrible depression to just fine. So if we're looking at life accomplishments, I think that's pretty okay.

And part of it is getting out of here. The mountains are pretty, ya'll. They are. And the people talk hard and sweet like sandpaper candy and a lot of times you're known by who you're related to, and people who you've only known for a little while become family.

And I'm used to starless skies and long i's like melodies and I've always found my place in my family to be oppressed and a bit understood.

So I'm doing alright now. And I need to stop feeling guilty for the life I could've had in the mountains, fighting against mountain top removal and chaining myself to the road on the way to strip mines and saving Appalachia from the drug problem

I'm doing okay just saving myself. And I did that. So now, I guess.. I can just move on.



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