I'm leaving Texas today after one year and a half. I'm going to miss my daughter a lot, and I will miss Texas a little. I am driving to Los Angeles to stay with my brother and sister. I will be glad to see them, and I do like LA quite a bit, especially the beach and the wonderful waves -- even this time of year.
Later, in April I will go back to the Skagit Valley and see my friends.
I'm tired of everything -- struggling, fixing, moving, learning, relating, driving, walking, eating, reading, making appointments, staying informed, bathing, -- I'm tired of everything.
What's the point of going from one place to another? Nothing ever happens anyway. Mainly I wish that I hadn't sold my home in LaConner three years ago. I never was one to wallow in regrets, but I am kicking myself now.
I thought, at the time, that if I sold my house, my life would get better -- I would get shut of my ex-wife and I would just go someplace else and start over.
But that didn't work. There is no starting over. It just keeps going on. It was hard for me after the divorce, with the kids gone, living in an empty house. But I should have stayed there -- I ended up living in an empty apartment anyway.
I should have kept the house. I was bound to suffer. I suffered anyway -- and now I don't even have the house.
No particular place to go. Today, I just throw my things into the car and drive someplace else. It doesn't really matter. I hate it.