In some ways, it feels as if a part of me is missing and in other ways, I feel exactly the same. I hate being apart from her for whatever the reason. The long nights traveling for my job is when I feel it the most. Being on the road is like going through hell and then some. The restless nights lying in a bed of someone else’s filth. They say the beds are clean or at least the card on the pillow states, but are they ever really clean? How does one actually clean up the semen and the sweat that soaks up into the mattress? Sure your nicer establishments have some sort of protection. A mattress condom if you will but the cheaper places? The places I have to stay because my boss cares more about the bottom line than the comfort of the poor bastard who makes that line exist, those places are brimming with semen, sweat, and who knows what else. I find myself sleeping on the floor most nights on the road. Not that the floors in these skank motels are any cleaner, but I’m less likely to sleep in somebody’s fluids.
As I lie on this particular floor I wonder what she is thinking about in our nice comfortable bed. I wonder if she thinks of me or quite simply nothing at all. Another conference in the morning. Another meet and greet with unknown clients. Does well for business though I can’t say the same for my soul. I could say it would be good for me if I was the owner. If I reaped anything from any and all this stress. Anything more than a paycheck. Life seems to be only ever about such worthless things. I wonder if I leave tomorrow night or the following morning. Something I should check, but I’m too lazy to get up off the floor. Either way, it is just one more shitty flight to an even shitter place. When you are young you want to travel, to see the world, but as you get older and then a little bit more that sense of adventure seems to slip right out of your mind. Now all I want is a chance to make up for all those lost years of traveling, of being apart. Those long night without me by her side.
It pains me to think about it. It pains me every time that I see her she has changed a little bit more. Her skin and her hair seem to change each and every time I return. I wonder when the changes will stop. Will they ever? I thought I could stop them, but it turns out no one can. Nothing stays perfect forever. The longer I am gone the farther we grow apart from each other. Disconnected I miss her and I miss her more whenever we are together. Where did those years before go? Did I not live them? Or have I been living in this traveling coma for so long that I simply don’t remember the past at all? One thing I do know, will always know is that she is still waiting for me. I made sure of that at least didn’t I? Back home she waits for my arrival and I’m sure my departure. To her, I’m sure she sees this time as never going or never there. To her, I’m sure that when this trip is over it will all be too late. That is what she said to me last. The words that haunt us. The words that changed everything. She doesn’t say much anymore. Lays in silence mostly. Silently waiting for my return.
Welcome back… this story seemed fitting for the occasion… this story is actually really old… I’m talking over ten years old… I’m not sure of the year I wrote it… but I remember the time period… and even though it is super sinister it was written from a place of love… odd I know until you remember it is me we are dealing with… then it makes sense…
It has been awhile since I have returned myself… hopefully all is well… the world has been changing for a while now… I wonder how much of it is really different by now?… stay healthy… stay safe… because there is always someone waiting for your return…
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