|
and it's a whole ordeal...
first is the complexity and the defeat of having to liquidate my items due to not having funds to move them and them not being deemed "nice enough" by said owner - moi. Yet so much of it was from Andrew that I swiftly culled - the best items - the chairs (that can't sell for $40) and the leather ottoman (that can't sell for $30) and for the glass desk, I was about to give it away in the give away area in my building and put the beloved plant on the sill until I give it away too... god, I'm kind of crying over this as I type
but fuck it.
it is what it is.
it's happening.
I apply for jobs thinking I'm a smart person, and I neither get the smart ones nor the trader joes but grateful for this stymied time. Andrew has it for sure. And the desk was the one we had the tv on - the one that I sold. My tasteful apartment still looks so full, and I've sold so much. the rest feels like easy giveaways. Almost a year since I've moved in here. Or is it exactly a year - it was all such a blur and I never think about the coin but I think of the lost ring like a stab to my heart always.
and I dared to go to the doctor to give a slight damn about my corpse/my temple's health in this world. That seemed like a good step. It always amazes me how others can love themselves so heartily that they feel they deserve... for me, it's complicated.
I touched the desk and the red stapler - the items I myself had placed in the back room to make their gaming room with the black leather sofa more comfortable. They were so difficult for me to integrate with - my step kids. I couldn't be cajoled into gaming and they were good for maybe one walk a month. I used it all as alone time to be sort of alone and having Andrew babysat by someone else. The glass desk was his purchase -probably from Ikea.
I can pace all I want, yet it won't change my reality. I am trapping my own self instead of being present and loving. whatever that means.
and I can fuck myself with imagining all the year two in Georgia then year three having no idea what getting less beautifully young and bleeding will mean year by minute. I sag. The glass desk was me trying to make my house good for my new family. Now, me touching it and giving it away reminds me of the time I loved my future and moved it for a good reason. Now, I'm alone. I feel often that I'll be alone a long long time, and I'm scared even though I have TWO post-it notes "starve out scary. love in good."
thank you.
|
