I’m doing something scary today, you guys. Well, scary for me.
I’m going home. I’m going back to my apartment for the first time since I broke up with Dragon. To say I’m nervous and terrified is an understatement.
Dragon and I didn’t live together or anything, but for some reason, going home is scaring the crap out of me. Why is that?
I know I have an irrational fear of being alone. Why I thought it was a good idea to sign a one-year lease on a 1-bedroom apartment, I have no idea. I think I was trying to push my boundaries? That, and I loved the apartment. I still do love my apartment. My apartment is not the point.
I’ve spent these last few weeks “coping” with the break-up and staying at my parents’ house. It was my choice, I know, and I’m sticking to it, but I’ve reached a point where sandwiching my depression between drinking a lot of wine with my friends every night and dancing to ’80s music in my childhood bathroom every morning is no longer adorable. It’s sad. I need to go home.
So, guys, today is the day that I pack up all my stuff and go face the moldy items in my fridge. My dad is bringing me a different bed (the one in my apartment actually belongs to Dragon’s family, and I can’t bring myself to sleep in it ever again.) and I’m planning on throwing myself headfirst into making my apartment extra awesome. If anyone has fun decorating ideas, send them my way. You know my style: anything Harry Potter, antique, or Dick Van Dyke related is welcome in my home.
Thank you all for being supportive. Hopefully my funny returns to full-time employment soon.
