Quoth the raven, “Nevermore”.

I’ve had a roller coaster of a time these past few days. I got back to Home Plate on Saturday. She was waiting for me to get home so She could go to work. I still like to see Her, If nothing else we were best friends for ten years. It is hard to be around Her. Although the wounds are beginning to heal, She is the salt and vinegar that make them sting.

I continue to work. I’ve really managed to channel a lot of energy into my work. If I didn’t, I’m afraid it would have begun to eat me up inside. To be honest, I never really stop working. Everything is an idea I can turn to a marketing advantage. Even my own life.

When She gets home She tells me that she is moving out at the end of the month.

I knew this was coming. Not the actual date, but the event. I thought I had prepared myself. I thought the wounds had closed a little more.

I was wrong.

It was gut wrenching. I felt that familiar feeling of having my heart ripped out. It will be a long time before I let anyone in there again. I may have a brusque exterior. Beneath that I am very emotional. There is a reason “Tracks of my tears” is one of my favorite songs. I once wore my heart on my sleeve, but my crust is a little thicker now.

Thus began the turbulent ride my emotions would take over the next few days. I was verging on schizophrenic. It was as if every step I took changed the mood I was in.

Have you ever felt as if you wanted to crawl out of your skin because right now you didn’t want to be? I get this feeling under my nails like my soul is trying to escape, to smash the window and run from the asylum.

We are funny animals, us humans. We convince ourselves of our reality. When we least expect it, our reality is realigned and focused to the true reality. The wind is knocked out of you and the readjustment takes a while.

On the flip side of this, it didn’t take very long to get over it. And that is both a good and bad thing. Part of me still hopes that this distance may change things. That part doesn’t want to move on. It would almost love to wallow in a perpetual pity party. The rest of me knows this is false. I am John’s eternal optimism gland.

What does all this mean for me? I have no idea. But there is a raven at my chamber door. And he’s quoting Edgar Allen Poe to me. I think it’s a hint.

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