but if home is where the heart is, then there's stories to be told

been thinking about something Cal told me on Thursday night:

"I'm thinking we should have an über-serious talk soon."

déjà vúing here. later note: I looked up the old ICQ log:


Larris 13.01.01 00:44 how are you now, my only love? :)

s_____ 13.01.01 00:48 working on a report.

Larris 13.01.01 00:49 ok, tell me when you're free for a bit then,
love. I'll do something else meanwhile.

s_____ 13.01.01 00:49 e___ we need to talk.

Larris 13.01.01 00:49 I know. like I said, let me know when you're
free.

s_____ 13.01.01 00:50 talk as in now.

Larris 13.01.01 00:50 very well.

should I call you?

s_____ 13.01.01 00:50 no... it's fine here.

Larris 13.01.01 00:50 right.

s_____ 13.01.01 00:50 e___, i can't do this. :(

Larris 13.01.01 00:51 I suspected as much.


from there the conversation rapidly deterioated into a more or less coherent mix of bitter tears, fumbling questions, unwelcome truths and agonizing decisions. lasting all night. later note: right into the dawn, actually.

but then the situation was different. and the real blow wasn't struck until two weeks later.

no matter. gonna find out in a matter of days as I'm going, uh, home again soon anyway.

this is weird. I do feel more at home in my small, sparsely decorated apartment than I do here, in the care of my parents. or perhaps exactly because of that. hm. bears some thought, that.

Sis and I got seats in the (ugh!) smoking car. two of a total of five seats available on Tuesday. fuck it all. I'm outta cigs as well, 'cause I watched the vid from the grand tunnel opening all afternoon and missed the kiosk. (open for 2 hours on sundays. no wonder I've learned to love the city life.)