The night before i left Richmond i got hammered. Not in a responsible way either. I chose one of the heaviest beers on the menu at a place that serves over 400 brews. So it was pretty heavy. And i didn't just have a couple, i had five 22 ounce bottles of black syrup they call imperial stout. It's the type of beer that makes you nauseous half way through the first sip, but then teases you with chocolaty undertones, masking the doom and destruction lurking in its darkness. I drank as a victory dance, it was a symbolic FU to the city i had been trapped in for two years. It's not important why i thought getting sloshed translates to victory. It just was and i enjoyed.
The people i was with, friends of mine; they kept telling me things like "we'll miss you" and "don't go" and "take me with you." It was a nice feeling, but too little too late and not at all enough reason to stay in a place that caused me to feel hate like i've never felt before.
Upon leaving one moment in particular was powerful enough to remember. We were all pretty far gone and it was time for good byes. One friend, someone i had shared pain with, someone who shared it with me just got into his truck and paused for a second. He looked at me from out of his window with an expression i can't really describe beyond meaningful. All i could do was return the expression and point to him, somehow telling him "thank you for being around when i needed you." He returned the gesture and drove off. I'll probably never see him again.
The next morning i was hungover. Pain was shooting through my head like a thunderstorm. Waves of nausea were passing through me every 10 or so minutes. But, i had a lot of work to do because i was leaving Richmond. After around 20 trips back and forth from the dumpster i had thrown out everything that wouldn't fit in my car. And, after weeks of procrastination and disorganization, that was quite a bit. But, i made it. At 2:00pm i turned in the key to my apt. and began my last drive from the south. I say last with purpose because i never want to visit the south ever again and this is why:
After two years it became painfully obvious that I'm not welcome there. I have too many personal traits that don't agree with the values of the south. I'm a thinker, not a doer. I'm not a fighter unless it's a verbal argument worth winning. Which in the south it never is. I'm not religious. I'm not political which should be explained. I care where the country is going; i care about providing for my community and i want to make decisions that will benefit everyone as equally as possible. But to get behind a political party that is more than obviously just a marketing scheme with a set of rules to enslave you is ridiculous to me. I'm not liberal or conservative because an individual shouldn't be defined and i try to be as individual as i can.
On my trip up, about a half hour of solid driving and i got pretty emotional. I could feel my eyes glossing over and throat tighten up, but it didn't materialize into anything. I just rolled down the windows and reved the engine a little more to replace whatever i was feeling with a little adrenaline. It was at the moment that i realized "yes, it was shitty living in richmond for the past two years, but there's no guarantee it's not going to be shitty in albany" But, it will be considerably less shitty because: I can see my parents more than 2 times a year, i can get closer to an extended family i feel i've neglected since birth, and my friends, although busy and ambitious, are all within a 3 hour drive.
That's all for now. I'm in Albany. I'm working, not hard, but working so as not to get fired. And, i'm feeling slightly better. After all, you can't feel 100% after the bottom. It takes some time, and time i have a lot of.
