Greener Grass

"I hate y..." She said, I slammed the door as she punched down on the gas pedal. She never showed up to pick up her things and I never called. I adorned my life with searching, I pulled up the roots and left. Disposed of ninety percent of all my belongings, I didn't belong. 2,000 miles later I picked up in a small town called Wayne in eastern Nebraska. With something like a 9,000 person population figured I could tear away from the foundation I set back home and start anew.A job presented itself in the form of refrigeration repair, For Hansen's Fridge.I started on a Wednesday morning first thing. Met my co-workers and hit it off right away. Later that evening they treated me to a beer at the local bar, where the trash hid in darkened corners and left the taste of mold in your mouth.
Months had passed and life was beginning to settle, I felt alive and with every intention to stay alone.I lived above a thrift store downtown in a small one bedroom apartment. Cozy and tidy, i had picked up a couch that was left back in the alley behind my place, but not much else.People were always leaving trash and treasures back there as a donation to the thrift store. I'd hear their cars come screeching to a halt followed by quickly slamming car doors and quiet talking. It was considered "dumping" but after hours they continued to unload load after load.
This particular day I awoke to crashing glass, glancing out the hazy windows overlooking main street I see a local man's truck had jumped the curb and smashed into a power across the street. He stumbles out and with amazement looks at the damage to his old Ford. I step back, away from the bright winter sky. 6:47 in the morning and i have to be at work by 8a.m. I might as well stay awake, I tell myself. I head to work as usual. Something is different, something has changed.I no longer like feel this was my home any longer. I still have bills to pay, so I trudge on. Days pass, weeks pass, months pass and I can feel the loneliness hiding in every corner of mind. Its a plague, a spreading wild fire. Ravaging the small plains in my head. Soon overwhelming, I start to feel the decent into my bones and it reverberates leaving behind a resin covering every inch of me. A coating that I can not get off of my skin.
You can't help but feel alone in this life, when everyone you know leaves to get lost somewhere new. Something is missing and I can't seem to place a finger on it.How have we grown so dependant, to serve the needs of everyone around us? Why must we place ourselves at the feet of the people we love, bow, beg, repeat, repeat, repeat.Living alone in an enclosed box exclaimed as life. These days are a reoccurring nightmare.

I have become the solitude of winter. There will be no warm weather ahead.