nebula

I don't really know how I feel right now.  Today has been an insane day of highs and lows.  Luminous and dark.  In less than 72 hours the person who I've struggled over and felt closer to than any other human being on this fucking planet will be out of my life.  Gone.  A cloud of memories, emotions and images in my mind.  Things are changing in a profound way.  Everything all around me is disintegrating and reforming right before my eyes.  I'm both comfortable with it, and extremely unsettled.

I don't really know how I feel about it all.

I'm doing my best to distract myself with movies, food and small tasks around the apartment.  Quick trips to the grocery store.  Lying down in bed trying to fall asleep at any and all hours of the day.  It's worked...for the most part.  Until the sun goes down and I'm faced with external silence and internal chaos.  I'm over it now, resigned once again to the inevitable.  It really doesn't make it any easier to take...it's just a different feeling now...not as painful.  But it's still there, like a shadow on my soul.  I've done my best to fake it for everyone, to make it seem as if it's just one of those things.  I'm not really good at faking it though.  Not with something like this.  I'm a pulsating vessel of angst and despair.  A hollow walking corpse attempting to fill myself up with anything else.

I don't want you looking at me.  I don't want you to see my like this.  I don't want you trying to talk me down off this cliff edge.  I want to be left alone.  I'm doing this because it's an outlet...a way to attempt to discharge some of this that I'm feeling, whatever it all is.  To process it in a meaningful, healthier way so that I can go on, move on.  

On top of all this, other doors are opening and I'm forced to contemplate whether or not I should walk through them.  Should I leave it all behind and really start over?  Blow it all up?  Try something else?  I actually uttered the words 'I'm happy where I am' today...but I'm not sure I really know where I am, or what I'm doing...what I'm really doing?  Am I close to being happy?  Will this departure finally relieve years of pent up stress and longing and frustration and pain?  Or am I thinking about ripping myself away from the life I've built for myself, a not-too-terrible life where I'm doing what I like to do and what I'm good at?  

But then there's the money?  The hours?  The loneliness?  The isolation?  It's all a bit much to process...and yet, I've got 72 hours to figure it out.  Not really, but yes really.

Confronted with this blurry fog of a future, I'm paralyzed by a combination of confusion, fear and anticipation.  I don't know what will happen next.  How I'll feel.  If I'll make the right decision.  What is the right decision?  

And what about her?

In 72 hours it won't matter.  She won't matter anymore.