It’s Time to Get Going

As the countdown begins I feel my blood getting thinner. Sometimes I even get angry. Sometimes I forget who I am, and I just…burst. I forget my mild manners, I forget that I don’t ever get this way. Perhaps I know even I can’t be me all the time.

People are clouding my outlook. I’m afraid I’m becoming complacent, and I’m getting a little used to this feeling that seems to have pitched a tent in my heart. Almost like a band-aid that is being pulled off ever so slowly. I just want to rip it fast, and get it the fuck over with.

And so it is with her too. It’s not something that is overbearing, it’s something I can handle. But sometimes…I wish she’d just go away, let me get on with my life and my business, stop occupying space in my apartment really. I just wanted a roommate, I didn’t want someone to be friends with, I didn’t want a babysitter, I didn’t want someone else’s drama either. I’m sick to death of solving or being part of petty high school shit. I almost feel like I can’t do anything here anymore without someone in my face, like privacy while writing, I feel like I can’t sing in the shower, or spend time in my zone, or pick my nose.

Sometime before all this I still had a life of my own. Sometime before all this I had plenty of moving space, and now I can hardly breathe. I just want to get back to the basics, me and you…without anyone else.

On other fronts I recommend never letting three couples work together…men at one job, women at another. Complete chaos, and moral dilema to boot. How do I fight the urge not to tell the things I know? Do I remember, back to the time that it mattered the most, that she wasn’t there for me? That I have no reason to even care?

Change is right around the corner, but it’s almost too much. New home, new job, new people. That night at Denny’s starts a new chapter, and without it, none of this would ever be here. None of this would feel as real as it does. I weap with every box I unfold, a tear falls for every phone call I get begging me to stay. It isn’t until you leave, that you realize the impact you’ve made. Perhaps I wouldn’t be leaving, if I knew earlier.

I was once told that I had a profound impact on every person that has the pleasure of being in my life. That no one who knew me could leave, and be unaffected. Perhaps not more than a ploy to get in my pants, but even then, those tears were real. I know that I can do this, I know I will go to hell and back to prove that I can. In the meantime, those tear stained boxes will be loaded onto a truck, and she’ll be in the passenger’s seat, ready to invade the second bedroom I could’ve made into an office…

…and I’ll still be here, where it matters the most. And although my impact has been reduced to ‘one of possibly five people’…it seems I did touch a few of you, a few of them…a few of us all. And that should be what it’s really all about.

Don’t wait to tell people they matter to you. It might save them some packing time.