Here I am sitting on my bed again. This time, no pants at all. Just some underwear and an "ironic" t-shirt. Not to get Jeffery Self on y'all (wink), but I'm moving out today and I have to say it's pretty rough.
From my bed I can see the Empire State Building. Last night I said goodnight to it from my room for the last time. I got all pity-party on myself when I started thinking about what it's meant to me. You see folks, growing up I could only fall asleep if the TV was on, so I would put on a movie every night when I got into bed. And most of the time it was "James and the Giant Peach." And most of the time I tried to stay up until the peach landed on top of the Empire State Building. And now every night before I go to bed I see the Empire State Building for real, and I'm like, "Girl, you've landed in your own peach." But now I have to go. Midway through this pity party I got pissed at myself for recklessly embracing nostalgia. So I blew my nose on the sleeve of my "ironic" t-shirt and tried to forget about it. But then I was like, "FUCK THAT. EVERYTHING IN MODERATION INCLUDING NOSTALGIA," and the pity party resumed in full swing.
I should also note, for dramaturgical purposes, that along with the bedroom-window-view I am also leaving the man to whom I was romantically linked. However, I'm not leaving on a sour note, which is good, but makes it more difficult. He's part of my family now. Like a close cousin I've had sex with. In fact, I love him more than any of my real cousins I've had sex with. I mean it.
I'll be fine. As most of you know, I'm a sturdy lady. But I hate talking about feelings with people. Every time someone says the words, "I feel..." I turn off and try not to vomit as I leave. So I wanted to say it without actually saying it. So I've said it! Now it's time to move some boxes and get myself some lunch.
1 month ago