I hate moving, and I hate having other people move. It's so damned sad. Justin will be going to London and coming back in late August. Our lease will be done by then anyway, so the next time I see him will be when I'm in Aurora, living at home before I take off for Italy.
Italy: the course for September has been filled, so now I'll be going a month later than I thought.
Dean left a few days ago, leaving me the only person in this three-bedroom duplex. Upstairs, it's as quiet as anything and I miss them already. Justin's my best friend and I'll see him for maybe 2 more months before our lives take seperate trajetories. Is this graduation? Is this what graduating from college is like?
I can't get a job at the moment. The manangers have refused to be there all the times that I've visited and I'm getting quite frustrated. I need a job. I need any sort of income because otherwise I'm going to stare down all the walls of this place, even if they're stripped of my roommate's things that I once found myself indifferent to but now miss.
I'm so sorry that I'm leaving but please know that I'm a boy who is 22 years old, going on 23, who has had highs and lows and been dealt so much. I have a life just like you do and right now I'm lacking the stability that you have, most my friends are moving away at this moment, and most importantly I just feel on the edge of breaking in two but I feel as though I have to be strong for some people. I can crumble apart quietly in the giant space that is my apartment and that will be fine. I just need to be able to sift through the carpet with nervous fingers and be able to trace where I went so I can gather myself up.
It's already seven o clock. I miss people but I want to be by myself tonight. I need to think, to get a plan, to root myself. And I hate this feeling of all of the color coming out of me. It feels like it's gathered at my fingertips to keep them warm. I'm always so warm.
I have that cannonball-in-chest weight and the horrid thing is that it's like a blanket to me, comforting. What's wrong with me? Are the drugs wearing off? I don't like where I am at this moment and it's such a curious feeling. I need a job, mainly. But I can change that, after all. That's up to me, I know. But at things detach and move away with speed like air: slow and constant and I can't do anything about it; that helplessness rolls up in a comma and sleeps between my shoulderblades at night as a ball of tension. Distance makes keeping things difficult, but my mind apparently doesn't give a fuck, which is fine with me. Maybe I'll dig my heels in and be stubborn and never let you go.
You all know me and that I'll be fine, so don't worry. This is a vent, after all, not permanent. I'm inclined to bitingly write "but what *is* right now?" but I refuse to be pessimistic about this, as that's suicide. In tiny increments. I'm staying in tonight. It just started raining. You know I love you. Believe it.
ho sola una mente ma due posti,
Jared I long for a teleporter. And a bungalow.