The places that meant a lot to me still mean a lot to me, regardless of how much I hastened to remove myself from their presence not so long ago. Funny thing about Boston, how it can feel so small and at the same time still boast so much to be explored. I can’t go anywhere in this city without running into someone I know, pleasantly or otherwise.
Not necessarily a bad thing, relationships change and morph over time: enemies to friends, friends to lovers, lovers to cautious acquaintances and so on and so forth. Problems arise when one person starts fulfilling all of those roles, a sort of mega-agglomeration of all your relationships, a multi-facet, loved and hated, respected and despised. The people here, they are exquisitely incestuous, building up layers and layers of relationships across the same bridged chasms. At some point, you’ve got to step back and take a breather, look down at the tangled web of strings you’ve knotted yourself into, and decide it’s time to start fresh. Move to a new city, run away, start snipping those unimportant ties, cast out a new line — desperately seeking new friends — and hope for someone several degrees of separation away to bite.
Stepping back into it, the complexity, the drama, was rather fascinating. It’s subtle at first, those little shifts in behavior (affection is rather difficult to hide). I like seeing it, those changes, those small stepwise modifications, it speaks to the passage of time. But what always strikes me as equally wonderful is the way I can pick up where I left off, that the people who meant a lot to me still mean a lot to me; that speaks to the integrity of human emotion.
Location: Boston, Massachusetts