Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Two Years Ago Today

Gone is the twisty. Rhymes and rhythms, gone - a serious side is here today. A serious side is needed today. There is a lot to write, a lot to say because I came home two years ago today.

Two years. Two fucking years.

My best mates took me to King's Cross on the day I left, it was a Saturday. We drove in their car through the streets of London Town, it was sunny and everything looked so familiar. And then I left. I had to leave. At the time there was simply no choice. Only hours before I boarded that train, I had been hollering Karaoke songs into a microphone in a particularly restrained fashion (Ha) and stuttering through my farewell speech at the most almighty farewell party I had ever seen. A room full of faces I loved so dearly, my London Family. A room full of the very life I was walking away from because my head told me I had to. I wonder (now) if she was tricking me? Tricky-trickster.

I remember sitting in my great friend's kitchen that morning, I remember taking photographs of her chalkboard that had had, "tidy coats" or "reduce coats", written on it for at least a year. Her shelves with assorted teas and a Miffy Jar with grass in it. Mr. Bruna would have been proud, I'm sure. I took photos of my purple tulips, that my bosses wife had given me the night before, drinking in her kitchen sink. I took pictures of her, she took pictures of me. I have the picture of her from that morning on my fridge here. She looked a bit broken that day in her pink PJ's with her red bandanna handkerchief in her hand. And she cried - because I was leaving. I couldn't understand it at the time. I couldn't understand that I was part of her family too, just as she was mine. I couldn't understand that she would miss me, that she was sad because I wouldn't be there anymore. Maybe sad for her, or sad for me; sad because that there was a Big Bad in my head that was taking me away - I suppose it matters little really, because my friend was crying, and it was what I was doing that had made her.

I, of course, was in 'hyper overdrive, coping mode'. I had the smiling, reassuring face that said: "This is the right thing to do - I am doing the right thing. We will be OK". But there was just no way to say goodbye to her or her husband who had let me sleep on their blow-up for my last week in London Town. There were no words big enough or strong enough to say, "Thank you" to the lady who was the biggest part of my London Family, she was the core, for me. She was the one who opened the door to a tear streaming face, once, when the tears did flow. The person who came into my home, the morning I crashed. Who stood in my hallway, gently walking towards me like she was approaching a demented and disorientated caged animal, telling me she wasn't going to, "make me do anything" I didn't want to. I was going out of my mind, but I remember her calmly walking inside. I remember that she came - immediately.

A super-swift exit was required at the station so I could remain The Face of Reason when all around me was falling apart, asking me not to leave. I looked back, when I sat in my seat. Boy did I look back. As the train pulled out of the station I took shaking photographs of London as it faded into a train window blur. The next photo I took was upon my arrival in Glasgow. It was sunny there too.

She's probably on her way to work today, my Kick Ass Friend. Just about now, she will be checking her email and answering calls in the desk beside mine. I suppose I should have been arriving too; swinging my office chair across the parquet flooring to gossip in her ear, or to make faces at her. Annoying her stupid and she right back at me.

Instead, today, I am going to see my Psychiatrist at the Biscuit Centre where all the other mental people go. I won't be answering phones or doing my job. I won't be fighting crime or saving the world one designful object at a time. I will be waiting to hear the results of my ECG test and see if my Psychiatrist wants to add a Beta Blocker into my Molotov Cocktail. Today is a day for: "Why me?". Today is a day when I look up at the ceiling in my flat, fully expecting to be on conference call to the Big G in the sky - or anyone else who might be listening - with a tear stained face, no words and eyes that just want to know: "Why me?"

"Yeah and there's an AIDS epidemic in Africa, effects of Global Warming visible everywhere, disaster, war, genocide, murder, kidnapping - people dying every day - so get over yourself" "Jesus!"

Yeah, thanks.

No comments: