I ride my motorcycle around the town with anger, resentment and rage. I remember my exx while I'm there and I know he lurks in the fast food joints and in his miserable rental house less than a mile from the home we once shared. When we initially separated he moved in with his parents in the next little town and sulked a couple of months. When Steve got his own apartment a mile from my place, my exx moved into a rental up the street from Steve's apartment. I'm sure it was no coincidence that he could see Steve's driveway from his street and he could just "BE" around all the time, driving up and down in my neighborhood.
Being in Menifee reminds me that I still feel a deep rage for this man. It saddens me that I'm not at a point of forgiveness yet, because I would like to be. But things happen in their own time, and as long as I'm willing, it will happen at some point.
I have friends in town that I love to see, but unfortunately, every event, lunch, meeting, and office I visit is only a temporary haven for the streets and parking lots that await me. Once I see the asphalt I feel the hate welling up in me and loathe this little town.
I hate my exx for many reasons, mostly for all of the lies he told, and I wish in my heart that I could release the anger and live happily in this city of my friends. But the asphalt taints my motorcycle tires and I ride with rage, inspite of myself.
This is why I love San Diego, and all the roads beyond. I am free from my past, my reality, my mistakes with that loser, when I am rolling beyond those years and that captivity. Staying in San Diego through the holidays, I'm close enough to visit my family without having to be in the middle of that place that fills me with such pain.
For now, we'll be spending most of our time in this sunny spot on the coast, catching up on work and enjoying all it has to offer. We love the vacation rental we've found on Bankers Hill, also referred to as Park West, within walking distance of plenty of bars, restaurants and the famed Balboa Park. The ride to and from Menifee is only an hour, which is just long enough to cleanse away the black hatred in my heart for that life-sucking-vampire and miserable waste of skin zero to whom I was once married. By the time I reach the bright rainbow of lights of Hillcrest I'm happy and free again, ready to live in my new reality.
Where do you store the mistakes of your past?
Have you really left them behind for good, or do the haunt you when things get a little too quiet?
Is that when you, like me, roll back the throttle, scream in your helmet, and pull away from the pain and misery you caused yourself with bad choices and sorrowful excuses to fill in the empty spaces of your life?