deconstruction

When I first moved to the Bellcrest some four years ago I remember feeling like I was finishing a chapter of a good book and about to begin a whole new story. I had just finished putting in my two years at community college where I took an exciting dose of art, acting, and philosophy classes and I was about to dive into the unknown of what my future education would hold. Four years and a couple of degrees later I am finishing another chapter of my life and now I am about to begin anew.

I remember the night before I moved into the Bellcrest. I can't recall exactly what my dreams were like that night but I do remember what I thought about while lying in bed. I pictured everything I have come to know as home so far and I began to imagine it being destroyed. In my head I pictured every home I have ever lived in crumbling to the ground. I imagined every school I have attended breaking apart into nothingness. This might seem to be destructive thoughts but I like to think of this as 'deconstruction'. Piece by piece I remember disassembling my memories until I was completely sure that my subconcious is secure and I am positive that nothing was going to haunt me in the future.

This is exactly what I did when I moved out of my last house on Commonwealth. Piece by piece I deconstructed everything I had come to know as home during my adventures in Detroit. I started with the Bellcrest; this was the easiest. I simply let the entire building implode in my imagination and crumble on top of itself. I then moved on to the Trumbull house and let the building next to it fall over and rip a huge chunk out of the side of the house when I stayed. This really isn't too hard to imagine considering that when I lived there the building next door did actually fall onto our house however in my imagination it left a clean gap right where my room was. Finally there was the Commonwealth house. In this instance I imagined the Zen Room peeling from the side of our flat and smashing onto the garage below. And it was finished.

I don't like to hang onto things. Everything I need in stored nicely in my heart and it has never let me down. I've followed my heart ever since I can remember and my heart is to blame for this crazy adventure I am about to embark on. This metropolis has been good to me and I am thankful for every moment I have been a part of but I feel the ground beneath me shaking. I feel a giant crack forming underneath my feet and if I don't move soon I am going to fall. So why fall when I've learned how to fly?