My best friend moved house. There were problems with his former residence and the landlord, so he was basically run out of his home of over a decade, to the other side of his town, a distance more from work and to a house near a very strange intersection. He’s doing well, and his mother is thrilled with their little house. Her face beams when she talks about it. Everyone seems to have settled in nicely.
I, on the other hand, am a mess.
The move has very little to do with me; the only real change is that I drive to a new spot to meet my best friend. My mind, however, has been thrown in to utter chaos and is having a great amount of trouble falling back together again. His flat felt like home to me. It was the only place I’ve ever lived where, by some odd twist of irony and luck, the cult could not find me for several months. In the safety of that time, I grew strong enough to get my own flat– also a first– and live in a place alone. Now that things have fallen apart and I’m living amongst some of the bad people again, I always felt that flat would be my starting point again some day.
A great deal had changed since all the way back in 2005 when I lived with my best friend and his mum. His brother moved in and out of that flat, his mum moved out of the flat and, temporarily, back in. Things were quite tumultuous (to understate) for his family over this past year. I trusted, however, that things would calm, the flat would remain, and the three of us would live there again until I got my strength up to move to my own flat again. It was the centre point around which I was building my future, and now, it is gone.
I feel lost, even though I’m trying to see this over-reaction for what it is. That isn’t helping, though, and the constant thought in my mind is that things will never be the same again. Nothing will ever find its way to solid ground again. I’ve spent time at my best friend’s house now and have even stayed over for a night. It doesn’t feel like home, though, and it’s closer to the local cult headquarters. I drive a distance out of the way to get there simply so I can feel I’m at a safe distance from them. This isn’t getting easier.
The people in the house are the same. My best friend and his mum are the same. The only thing that has changed is the physical location. Yet, nothing *feels* the same. It all feels different and somewhat scary, like I’m having to re-establish something I can’t quite place. I feel selfish and silly because the people who were actually involved in the move and are living in a new space are fine, whilst I’m in chaos. This isn’t mine to take on. Still, nothing seems the same, and the central point seems to have dissolved in to nothingness. It’s like my central point of existence is gone, and with it my chance to rebuild a life on solid ground. The constant refrain in my mind is that nothing will ever be the same and nothing will ever be stable again. Try as I might, I can’t help believing that to be true.