Stop Thinking, Dammit @ Friday, Apr. 30, 2004

My neighbors were fighting last night. Screaming, cursing and slamming doors. I felt like a little girl listening to her parents fighting in the other room, hearing things I shouldn't.

I'm twenty-nine years old - single, yes - and I shouldn't be living in an apartment. Alone.

When I went to bed last night, Mina was sleeping on my side of the bed, up by the pillow. Rather than disturb her, I curled up on the other side. She purred and nestled a little bit closer.

So I spent the night on what I still think of as Big's Side of the Bed. The incense and jar of massage lotion still sits on his bedside table...even though I've moved to an entirely different apartment. I unpacked it and put it back exactly how it was in Dayton as if I were just waiting for his return. I lay there, wide awake, and wondered how he could have lived with me as long as he did, in my tiny Dayton apartment, when he had a big house waiting for him in California. How could he have slept on my hard, double bed in my haphazard bedrooom? Sure, I tried to make my room look less like a storage closet and bought a new, grown up comforter and pillows but....He told me at one point that he hadn't lived in such a tiny apartment in so long. But he didn't care; he never complained.

I cried and missed him and finally fell asleep around one.