Alex, Rachel, and I decided we’d move out to Seattle. We looked at a few houses that would suit us, picked out furniture, and sorta planned out how much we would each have to save to live in the city/suburbs. I’m pretty excited thinking about a new life out west… But it feels like I’m running away. sigh
I miss Michael so very much. He’s been on my mind a bit more often than usual, and I feel restless. If I’m being honest, there hasn’t been a day he’s not flitted through my thoughts.
I’m worried my heart won’t heal. I’m not in limbo anymore, wondering if he’ll ever want to see me for a cup of coffee or beer. I’m wondering if he’s getting enough sleep, eating well… Falling in love with a pretty girl who treats him with kindness. A part of me hopes he is. To my very core, I want him to be happy. It just hurts me. But don’t worry. I’m trying to become a masochist.
Maybe running away is a good thing. I won’t be reminded of him by so many things. That’s a lie. I can’t even eat a burrito without remembering him; he took me to eat my first one at a Qdoba.
I shared a lot with Michael. I told him I thought making lasagna was a very couple-y thing to do and that I’d like to make it with my significant other someday. He went grocery shopping, bought all the ingredients, and we made some bomb-ass lasagna sauce in a wok he was very excited to receive for his birthday. At the time, I thought the gesture was sweet; now I almost feel cheated out of something I wanted to share with the guy I end up with.
Too many memories keep choking me up. The glasses I drink from were Michael’s. The tickets to the Oriole’s game are on my fridge (why the fuck do I still have those there?). A black seashell in the shape of a dick he picked up from South Carolina rests on my windowsill.
While cleaning out my email, I came across a letter from Michael. I cried when I read it.
There was a lot more to it, but those words are only for me.
I may be looking at houses in Seattle… but Michael has permanent real estate on my heart.