C l e a n

Not drinking.
Moved // Tuesday, Mar. 18, 2003

So, I moved. It's very weird.

Before I moved, I was having this irrational fear that when the movers started dismantling my apartment, all kinds of incriminating evidence would surface and expose me for the drunken slut I once was. I imagined the movers picking up the couch and gasping in ladylike horror at bottlecaps, condom wrappers and well-licked drug baggies. As it turned out, the only artifacts that came to light were two scraps of paper with drug dealers' phone numbers on them, not automatically recognizeable as such to anyone but me.

Actually, this fear was not really that irrational, considering what I've found myself in the apartment, particularly after the eviction of one especially sketchy male acquaintence. I don't know what was more disturbing to find -- the weapon or the unfamiliar female undergarments.

In my new place, I know exactly what's here and what's not. There are no disturbing surprises or bittersweet reminders tucked behind the furniture. Though the house is old and my rooms are cozy, it feels antiseptic. I haven't lived here. I haven't cried, spilled or fallen down here. I haven't danced, talked to myself or made plans here. I will, though. It will build up.

Moving out of my old place was like scraping out the last debris of my comforting, smelly old life. I feel like I scraped out my heart too.

prev // next

recently:
Visitation - Tuesday, Jul. 20, 2004
Tired of This - Monday, Jul. 12, 2004
Watershed - Thursday, Apr. 29, 2004
First Date - Friday, Apr. 23, 2004
Online Dating - Sunday, Mar. 28, 2004