Day Thirteen

Just about two weeks of sober. I'm moving tomorrow and having funny feelings about the last night in this apartment. I'm really excited to move and I'm not moving that far away but it's still funny.

I guess there's an amount of reflection that bubbles up without you knowing or wanting it to on occasions like this. I've been here three years. What was I like three years ago?

Remember that time it was four in the morning and you were sweeping up heaps of broken glass out side of your apartment door with a seventeen year old who had just escorted you to the local precinct to pick up your keys? Remember that time you practically had sex in the stairwell with your ex boyfriend? Remember when you brought your cat home? Remember when you brought your SECOND cat home? (in a cardboard box cause someone left him outside in winter!) REMEMBER WHEN YOU BROUGHT A PIGEON WITH A BROKEN LEG HOME? Remember when you stayed up all night doing drugs before graduation and it made graduation the most painful day of your life? Remember when you went to Berlin and all you did is drink and it was right after graduation and you were so CONFUSED? Remember how even with all the christmas lights you still weren't able to carve out one itsy corner in your room that felt safe and like home?

This is too much remembering.


DISCLAMER:

I am pre menstruating and cannot be held liable for whatever dramatics are spewed out in this post or any further post for the next week. Thank you.


Well, it will be so nice to be in the new apartment, it's larger and brighter and has higher ceilings and huge tall closets and I have a loving roommate and together we will carve and carve till we find an eensy bit of home. And once I start drinking again my friends will like me.

NOW IM GOING TO WATCH THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF NEW JERSEY, and maybe eat chocolate chips.