Truths of Old

I was not happy here. It was always grey, and often cold. Some of my darkest moments were spent here, and sometimes the darkness was so overwhelming it was difficult to breathe. This was a city of lost people; people came here to be lost. Some came to find themselves. All came in search of their dreams.

I stumbled upon a dream far away in the warmth and sunlight, then lost it here in the dark and cold.

Nonetheless, this city - smoky, ancient and grimy; intricately carved with a billion reasons and myriad forgotten stories - this city was my home.

And I was free here.

*****
Standing in the middle of my flat, I turned around and took in the barren-ness of it all. I've never seen it so clean here in my life. All the stories and shared moments in this flat... erased.

It looked a nice flat. Somewhere I would like to live in if I was looking for a place to stay.

In my minds eye, I remembered a thousand moments. I picked up the phone absently and heard You ranting about marriage. I closed my eyes and saw a (cough) rough and tumble on the couch. I heard Jewel singing about Foolish dreams as I stared out into the darkening twilight. I watched You, in your green windbreaker jacket thing warily watching me from one of the two couches as I watched you.

I saw the coat rack - empty now - bend slightly as I hurled my overcoat, damp from the evening rains - onto it, and collapsed onto the couch.

I... hurt.

Goodbye, dear home.

I shall miss you.