Honey Do

It's finally happening. On Monday, July 16th, I'm forever moving away from the city of Richmond, Virginia, a veritable fortress of solitude that Kal-El really didn't have to travel to the North Pole to find, (and I think myself to be quite the superhero for having had endured this place for this long), to start a new life, with old friends, and a new job that just reeks with personal fulfillment.

In many ways, there's a lot that I want to say about this chapter of my life; how living here has shaped me, changed me, how I barely remember the boy I was four years ago, how I fell in love for the first time (idiot), had my heart trampled with indifference, and subsequently approved misery's application to be my roommate. Now that I'm leaving, however, contentedly shaking the dust of this city from the sandals of my feet, none of it seems to matter.

Except for one thing: Patrick. Here's an excerpt from a letter I wrote him several weeks ago, as I believe it already captures the sum total of my feelings, rather than having to write them all out again:

...In light of that, I have to tell you how much I love you, and how much you mean to me Patrick. I never knew I could look back upon the life I've lived, that has so tumultuously led up to this here and now, with a retrospect that can at best describe even my most joyous of circumstances, before having met you, as empty. To this day I can't seem to wrap my mind around why it is you love me, or what Grace has moved the universe to mercy and made you a gift given unto me.

In so many ways, I'm happy to move back home, and be with my family and the wonderful friends I've left behind. I've yearned for it, prayed incessantly for it, having had my heart broken by cruel circumstance here in what I've thought to be little more than a reflection of what hell must be like, hoping against hope that God would rescue me from this affliction of unshakeable sadness. And I never thought, when I should be rejoicing the most at having this opportunity to move, that because of you, the one surprise I never expected, it would break my heart to leave...

And so I soldier on into the territory of the long-distance relationship, a thick wilderness teeming with unknown dangers that I can already feel savoring the olfactory sensation of my fear, waiting to strike with savage rapidity and devour the fragile husk of my relationship.

To take my mind off things, I have devised a to-do list of things to accomplish before I leave:

1) Have car inspected and repaired. Be prepared to rob a bank in order to pay for it.

2) Irony: Secure a more reliable get-away car.

3) Cancel gym membership (!)

4) Caveat: Don't get fat.

5) Pack! My God, you're lazy. You majored in reading, for Christ's sake. For the love of God, PACK!

6) Buy bubble-wrap for fragile items. Try not to have popped it all by the time you get home.

7) Give notice that you won't be renewing your lease. Try to look at least a little sad about it.

8) Stay engaged during your last week of work, and try not to stab that new girl in the face.

9) Throw out perishables, paper, and anything that reminds you of Ed.

10) Caveat: Quit thinking about how terrible Ed was to you.

11) Disassemble and dump that desk you thought matched your furniture. In case any part of you is still unsure, it didn't.

12) Burn Patrick a CD. Avoid any songs by Mika, the Scissor Sisters, or from the Footloose Soundtrack (the Broadway show, not the movie. ...Jesus).

13) Caveat: Quit thinking about how terrible you think this is for Patrick. Arrogant prick.

14) Get shit-faced at your going-away party. It'll make waiting for the movers seem like they aren't really five hours late.

15) Never look back.