At the age of thirty some people of age may say I am too young, too inexperienced or too opinionated to know much of love, life, relationships or personalities. I don't know if that's true but what I do know is that I've always known when my parts of my life were coming to an end. I've quit jobs just before companies turned bad, I've turned away from friends just before their morals went south and I've walked away from girlfriends as they were preparing to walk away from me. Now, an arrogant man may say that my removal could be the cause of their demise, a selfish man may say that I should have stayed and accompanied them on their downfall or an honest man may say that I abandoned my responsibilities in search of self preservation. All may be true. But this time it's different. This time I will descend into hell before I leap into freedom. This time I will be the one who is left to crawl through the shit that I have helped to smear over our lives. This time the memories that I have furnished with lies will become my nightmare and not hers. She will walk away from this with her pride intact, with her arrogance entrenched in her heart and her love as caged as it has always been. I spent my life married to the Earth. Her beaches were my lovers, her mountains were my mistresses and her cities were my whores. I loved her unconditionally and she rarely caused me regret. She was big and bold, beautiful and artistic, sexual, spiritual and supportive. But I took her for granted and in time I began to become tired of her bosom, I grew weary of her joy and I became jaded by her everlasting wonder. And then I met a girl whose eyes were more beautiful than the seas of Thailand, whose love was more addictive than the opium of India and whose control over me was more powerful than the sunsets of Greece. I fell out of love with the Earth and into forever with her. Forever is where I will stay in perpetual doubt. I was never doubtful of the Earth she was eternal, she showered me in gifts and her lands were littered with excitement. But now I live in doubt. My chest is tight, my mind is fractured and my pride is diminished. I am less than a shadow of a child half my years. I am a child once more. A lonely child. My convictions have been shattered and my experiences rendered useless for they are of no value in this. I have no knowledge of my situation. I walk blindly through the hot streets, covered in sweat and lost beneath the buildings that hide my distress from the strangers who stare at my face. But in the streets I find no solace or salvation only discomfort and questions. In the streets I am more lonely than the widows of war. And yet despite it all I will stay. Not for morality or loyalty but for hope and promise.