Moving on...

It’s been five weeks since my last post. I had to go through the break up. I’m living in a new place now. I have my own place now. I have my job now. I have a new life now. It seems weird and lonely. It’s mostly lonely. I saw Tom yesterday when I picked up the rest of my things. I gave him back the keys. I have my own keys now. It seemed symbolic giving him back the keys, as if that door wasn’t opened to me anymore. Somebody said when God closes one door, he opens another or a window. But this one alcoholic said, but it’s a bitch when you’re waiting in the hallway waiting for god to open that next door. I guess that’s where I am right now in my life. I’m in the hallway waiting for God to open the door.

This morning, two days after I got the rest of my stuff from Tom’s place, it dawned on me that we were really broken up. I guess I didn’t get it at first. I guess I thought it was just a phase. I mean in the ten years we have known each other we’ve broken up so many times and always ended up back together. I once spent a thousand dollars for a month in a hotel and only stayed two days before I was back home. I gave him the keys back, so that’s not my home anymore. It was like giving somebody back the keys to their heart. I don’t live there anymore. It makes me sad, glad, mad and happy all at the same time. I’m happy to be free but sad to be free. I guess that’s co-dependence.

It seems unfair that I’m 31 and I spent my entire twenties in a relationship. I’m not young anymore. I was afraid that was going to happen.

Am I bitter? A little. I must just move forward. I did let it break me down two days before the break up. I had been drinking for four days, cursing Tom out, so pissed at him that he didn’t put up a fight when the apartment people wanted to put me out. They wanted to keep him as long as he got rid of me. And I knew our relationship was over, but I was pissed that he would stay somewhere that didn’t want me. I guess he figured he wasn’t going down with my titanic.

And it’s my second relationship that’s ended so final. I hated Charles for just not speaking to me anymore. He said I was abusive. I say he was a fucking coward. I have thing for cowards I guess.

I take it back, I am bitter damnit. It’s like love don’t mean nothing to anybody. I mean, I guess I want that Romeo and Julliet love. These guys they say they love you, but when it gets hard, and when it’s not so damn convenient, they want to run.

Personally, I don’t need love anymore. I just want to fuck. I don’t even have to know their names. I just want to fuck. I don’t want to date. I don’t want to kiss. I don’t want the bullshit conversations. I don’t want to meet their families. I ain’t got time for it anymore. Love don’t live here anymore.