So, she came by to get the last of her stuff not more than a few minutes ago. I didn’t think that it would get to me. Whatever, people move on, we’re both still young, blah blah blah. She gave me her key, and it hit me, like a ton of bricks. Even right now, just thinking about it. I don’t know if it’s ever felt like this before. I sure can’t rememer it.
It does make sense though, as much as I don’t want to admit it. I picked on her way too much. Looking back at the last 2 months after she told me she was moving out, it just got worse too. Who knows where it’s going to go from here. From body language, and everything left unsaid, I’m thinking into the ground, but things can change I guess. I don’t know what I really want out of it, or if I want to try to make it work.
I think I’m going to run and workout to try and make myself feel better. I think just getting out of the apartment will help, but then I’ll come back. And since I thought I was going to help her move this weekend, I don’t have anything else planned. Should be fun to sit around and feel sorry for myself. Always a blast.