Home
It's funny. Ever since Patrick and I split up, I've had a really weird relationship with this apartment. I love it but I just couldn't do anything here because I was just... heartbroken. When Patrick moved out, I got roommates, who lived in the master bedroom, and I lived in the tiny guest room. I'm anxious around people, ESPECIALLY people I live with (god only knows why) so that drove me further into a hole.
But now I live here, by myself. I can keep it clean. I can cook in it. I can listen to music. I can sing along with stupid songs. I can yell at my cat. I can sleep on the couch.
That's great. It's been a good reset for my mental and physical health.
But I feel myself approaching a tipping point.
I feel like I felt in 2007, when I stepped off that ledge and fell into San Francisco.
It's not going to be long.
I'm going to leave again.
I'm just going to leave a lot more behind than I left last time... and I don't know how I feel about that.
But I have to go back. I feel like I'm here on borrowed time.
But now I live here, by myself. I can keep it clean. I can cook in it. I can listen to music. I can sing along with stupid songs. I can yell at my cat. I can sleep on the couch.
That's great. It's been a good reset for my mental and physical health.
But I feel myself approaching a tipping point.
I feel like I felt in 2007, when I stepped off that ledge and fell into San Francisco.
It's not going to be long.
I'm going to leave again.
I'm just going to leave a lot more behind than I left last time... and I don't know how I feel about that.
But I have to go back. I feel like I'm here on borrowed time.