I love Colorado. And Silverthorne will always be my home, my stomping grounds. But you can take this cold shit and shove it up your ass. I left Portland wearing shorts and a tank top with the weather like 70°/75° and landed in Denver to a snow storm and 32°. I have no idea how I made it in this cold ass state for as long as I did but I can tell you this, I won’t be here that long this time. In and out. It is ridiculously beautiful here though, with the snow covered mountains looming on the horizon. And the summers, even though they are only 2 maybe 3 months long, are absolutely magnificent so you got your pros and cons just like anywhere else. The cons just seemed to start outweighing the pros lately and Colorado’s beauty had begun to lose its shine. I was worried at first that I wouldn’t be able to make it in Oregon, that I would get home sick or something would happen forcing me to come back. That I’d feel this need to come back and feed off the tit that Colorado has become for me and I’m sure that there are others that still feel like I’ll end up crawling back before it’s all said and done. There’s a lot to be said about familiarity and comfort. Lot to be said about history. The known misery is oftentimes preferable to the unknown uncertainty which causes plenty of people to remain in situations that are unhealthy and bleak. The unknown can be a scary motherfucker. Moving thousands of miles outside of your comfort zone, leaving everything you have ever known, everyone you’ve ever known, all by yourself, seems lonely. And it is. But not in the way I would have thought it would be. I thought I was gonna leave and that I would be filled with some kind of feeling about Colorado and being gone but when I got to Oregon I felt pretty much the same as I did when was here. In fact overall I feel better there then I do here. I don’t want to say that I feel more hopeful cause it’s not that, but I feel more opportunistic there if that makes sense. And while I do miss my mom and a few others I don’t actually feel homesick. This has ceased to be my home if it ever was in the first place and the ache I had expected is nowhere to be found.
Published by devilmonkey666
I'm a hot mess. A 41 year old child who still doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up. Or even if he wants to grow up for that matter. People say I'm a writer. I'm not so sure. But it is therapeutic and helps me from going all the way left sometimes. View more posts