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02 September 2009 @ 03:05 pm
I don't know.  
The woman downstairs is watching TV. I can hear the muffled sound of faraway voices through the tile floor. I don't know how long she's been watching it; how long have the voices been active? My ass hurts from sitting on the hard floor, and I keep having to shift positions so my legs don't fall asleep. I hate pins and needles.

I'm effectively pricing random things so that I can sell them. It's bittersweet. So much is bittersweet right now. The muffled voices on the TV were humming for a minute, maybe singing. I can't tell what's being said, only that someone is saying something.

I don't know what I will do with myself when I leave here. I don't know how I will manage to cope without my boyfriend of four years. What will I talk about to complete strangers? I'm so used to talking about Josh, about four years worth of "us", about how he lives so far away and about how much I love him. How I'm moving there. Moved there. Live there. Coming home from there.

It hurts to think about leaving, because now I don't want to. There's an ad for World of Warcraft in the sidebar on this page, and even looking at that hurts because we have so many silly videogame related memories together, especially of this one. How will I bear the memories? The photographs? The dress I wore when I met him for the first time, the engraved frame from prom that my mother got me, the little note and card he wrote me for our first anniversary. How will I ever be able to look at these things without crying? Without hurting? How will I ever be able to look a BLT sandwich in the face again, or go to one of my favourite restaraunts, or even sleep in my bed? Four years leaves you with a lot of memories; good and bad. I have a tendency to forget the bad, and only remember the good. So how will I be able to look at these things without cracking?

Sure, there's a part of me that wants to go home. There's a part of me that wants to stay. There's a part of me that wants to force it to work, and there's a part of me that knows that can't happen - at least not right now.

I try to surround myself with the words of my friends.
"We will do this, and this, and this. We'll have a big party when you get home."
"You're a free bird."
"Think of it as another adventure."
"I'll break the rule and hug the shit outta you."
"When one door closes..."
They make me feel better for about five seconds, and then I remember what I'm leaving behind. My boyfriend of four years. The guy I talked to about getting married. The person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. My best friend. My confidant. Someone funny, someone who told me I was beautiful even when I was half-dressed, with my hair all unruly, and I hadn't taken a shower yet. Someone who thought I was gorgeous despite all my flaws.

It just hurts to have to leave that behind. Him, his family, this quaint little town with it's quaint people, and its quiet disposition. A friend, a lover, and this one-eyed cat, who is generally a bastard but is pretty cute when he's napping.

It's a lot. It's hard. It's mind numbing. It's painful. So many memories can't be easily forgotten. So many memories are almost haunting in a situation like this. I just don't know what I will do, how I will manage to do it, and where I'll be doing it from. I'm not sure. I have no idea. I don't know. Je ne sais pas.

I just want everything to be okay.