melephant

So, I'm packing for my big move and I know I should pack light, stuff it all into one big backpack or something. But I want to take all my pretty underthings...and my wafflemaker...and every word I've ever written...And every word you've ever written to me...And all the books and baubles I've collected over the years...and the music. I don't even know how to tackle that whole mess.
At least I no longer have my 5 pet rats and a chinchilla to worry about.
This will be fine. Don't worry about me. I should've left yesterday. But I'll get it all condensed. I'll make the hard decisions about what to leave behind and I'll end up taking too little. I always do that. It's like, I don't want to allow myself to be defined by my possessions, so I get rid of things too easily.
Like you.
When it cums down to it, there are a precious few things I never, ever could part with. People, on the other hand ... Don't you ever forget me. And be careful on the highway. Stop smoking. And no more dope for you, either. All these self-destructive behaviors threaten to destroy me, too.
I'm not running away from you. I swear. I just have to go somewhere else now. When you're better, you can cum fetch me away to the city. When you're better, you'll understand why I left.
p.s. I didn't mean it when I said you were a shitty writer. I was trying to hurt you, because you hurt me first. Don't ever stop.