SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
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Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Tuesday, Aug. 28, 2012 @ 4:10 pm
Transitioning



Cycling the flatlands in Richmond. Rich smell of verdant earth, the concussion of blueberry cannons across the ripe, late summer fields. My legs ache more than they should for the 45km route.

During the week I am miserable. The structural design work bores me to tears. The engineers fight amongst each other, each in a different accent and version of broken English. Daniel comes into my office: Effing engineers, he says as he surveys the stark grey office. In broad terms, I enjoy my work, but I yearn for something more. Something more organic, something with colour and shape and texture.

At night, Daniel lays into me about my social life. Lists off the potential friends that I let slip away. Tells me that it's not natural for someone to have no friends. Tells me that when he invites a couple over, that I do not work hard enough to get to know the girl. I ask him how many friends I had when he met me seven years ago: one. I ask him how many times I've moved in the last seven years: six. I asked him how far away that one friend is from me now: 1,166km. I asked him how long I've been in this city: 6 weeks.

But he still won't back down. And I end up crumpled on the couch with Alf, who he is still threatening to give away. The only reason that I haven't is your feelings.

I don't know what to do. He wants to change me, to change the core of who I am. I've been like this forever. I never like anyone enough to pursue a day-to-day friendship. And the few that I do like that much live too far away.

This is the reason that he hasn't asked me to marry him, this and my persistent grumpiness. But the more that I think about marriage, the more I realize that it's not really what I want with him. We've been together for so long, I no longer feel that magic that you see in people's wedding photos.

I don't really know what to do.


Roots | Shoots