The end of a particularly sunny Monday ends with loneliness. I’m holed up in my shabby apartment thinking about my absent and the soon-to-be absent beloved ones. As it happens, many of my favourite people seek their fortunes all over this crazy dimension, and every so often, despite my happiness for them and their adventures, the spacial differences really get to me. I miss them, and I am going to miss the ones who are leaving soon. I’m starting to feel a little bit left behind, insomuch that perhaps and maybe I’m just not seeking my own fortune in a place where I’ll be able to find it. Making sense? Making no sense. Just stay with me here.
I may be thinking about a career change, a change of environment, and a change of lifestyle. I may, however, just be stuck in a stint of idle daydreaming and ‘easy way out’ analytics. Maybe this is just my tax return talking. Whatever it is, I miss the ones who are off in British Columbia, and on planes to Austria, and grabbing the big whigs in Washington D.C. by the balls. And I know that quite soon, in a matter of months, I will miss the one who I never want to have to miss ever again. OK. I know. This is sad-bastard MP being all sad-bastardy. This is what you would probably say to such a girl: “You can’t dwell on the absence of others, for you, too, are absent to them. Absence is what makes all things wonderful. Absence is what we work to bridge. Absence is the very muse of all dealings, creations, travels, and goals. So shut the fuck up, and give’r.” And if you were to say that to me, I’d listen. I’d listen and nod, and really think about displaying open and positive body language while you were saying it. But frankly, after such a beautiful sunny day and a rather quiet evening at home, I don’t like absence, and I wish everyone could be here now. It would be grand.