I feel that familiar tug of emptiness inside once again.
I can feel it spreading, pulsating through me.
It sits in my ribcage, chewing at my heart.
It corrupts my blood and sends it surging through tired arteries.
The Groove Shack is now empty and mangled. Filled with the debris of crashed-through ceilings and bashed down walls, broken glass from smashed windows. Most of them self inflicted wounds from those who knew the house best, who felt the need to have a part in its destruction before it was out of their hands. The house was scheduled for demolition, to make way for a more profitable abode. Knowing this, the house spiraled into disrepair, wounded by raucous parties and no motivation to clean up the next day damage. The walls were covered in crude but enjoyable drawings and spray paint tags, souvenirs of everyone who'd visited and left their mark. The last few weeks I noted how each room's old charm disintegrated slowly, each gaining unpleasant qualities. Garbage was scattered around; the sink was always full of dirty dishes; the hard wood floors were sticky and the carpeted floors were dank from spilled drinks. Near the end it was hardly liveable.
But before the Shack had descended into filth it was my favorite place to be. It was a place to waste the afternoon playing video games, smoking weed, drinking beer. It was a place to hang out with the crazy roommates and friends, and laugh at their never ending antics. It was a place for romantic homemade meals with my boyfriend. It was a place to get wasted and dance at their epic parties and a place to fall asleep in a warm bed at the end of it all. It was a place to listen to KGB practices or Taylor's solo work. It was just a great place. It stood for everything I loved; freedom, comfort, convenience, amusement and privacy when we needed it.
And now it's gone.
It's left a gaping void in me, because gone with it is my boyfriends home. He's back at his mom's, an acreage 25 kilometers out of the city. Gone are the days of going for a bike ride and ending up at his house twenty minutes later, gone are the days of a 5 minute drive home. Now seeing him means the distance eats an hour out of our time together, and with him working 5 days a week, that time is already so sparse. I suppose I took his closeness for granted. I took the whole house for granted, and now I'm feeling down. I knew the day would come when they'd have to pack up and leave, but I wasn't prepared for it. But I'll have to get used to it that's for sure.
I can feel it spreading, pulsating through me.
It sits in my ribcage, chewing at my heart.
It corrupts my blood and sends it surging through tired arteries.
The Groove Shack is now empty and mangled. Filled with the debris of crashed-through ceilings and bashed down walls, broken glass from smashed windows. Most of them self inflicted wounds from those who knew the house best, who felt the need to have a part in its destruction before it was out of their hands. The house was scheduled for demolition, to make way for a more profitable abode. Knowing this, the house spiraled into disrepair, wounded by raucous parties and no motivation to clean up the next day damage. The walls were covered in crude but enjoyable drawings and spray paint tags, souvenirs of everyone who'd visited and left their mark. The last few weeks I noted how each room's old charm disintegrated slowly, each gaining unpleasant qualities. Garbage was scattered around; the sink was always full of dirty dishes; the hard wood floors were sticky and the carpeted floors were dank from spilled drinks. Near the end it was hardly liveable.
But before the Shack had descended into filth it was my favorite place to be. It was a place to waste the afternoon playing video games, smoking weed, drinking beer. It was a place to hang out with the crazy roommates and friends, and laugh at their never ending antics. It was a place for romantic homemade meals with my boyfriend. It was a place to get wasted and dance at their epic parties and a place to fall asleep in a warm bed at the end of it all. It was a place to listen to KGB practices or Taylor's solo work. It was just a great place. It stood for everything I loved; freedom, comfort, convenience, amusement and privacy when we needed it.
And now it's gone.
It's left a gaping void in me, because gone with it is my boyfriends home. He's back at his mom's, an acreage 25 kilometers out of the city. Gone are the days of going for a bike ride and ending up at his house twenty minutes later, gone are the days of a 5 minute drive home. Now seeing him means the distance eats an hour out of our time together, and with him working 5 days a week, that time is already so sparse. I suppose I took his closeness for granted. I took the whole house for granted, and now I'm feeling down. I knew the day would come when they'd have to pack up and leave, but I wasn't prepared for it. But I'll have to get used to it that's for sure.
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