The Things I Carry

I've been absent for longer than usual, I know. There's really not much to say.
I thought I had something good, and moved to be closer to him. Then he broke up with me shortly thereafter, citing his unhappiness and the fact that there will soon be no room for me in his life. It's OK. I'm not sad - I feel free. I've been happier than I've been in a long time, and for the first time I am single and happy. I'm moving back to South Bay. I've signed the lease on the new place and will be moving next week.

One box of cookbooks and general reference. One box of software reference. One box of literature. One box of books I'm trying to sell on Half.com. One box of sheet music and sewing reference. Two boxes of DVDs.
One box of decorative candles and associated items.
Two boxes of glassware and mugs, two boxes of dishes. Two big boxes with small appliances, cooking utensils and cookware.
Three nesting Samsonite suitcases, all filled with clothes. One box of belts and shoes. One box of bath and bed linens.

How much does a person really need to live? Air, and water. Enough food to eat. We are collectors, and collect stuff. Collect things. Feelings and memories. All the luggage we drag around with us, to be unloaded when we die.

Sometimes I wish I was still in college and could move everything I needed in the back of a Jeep Cherokee. Now I have to call a moving company because I am too physically and emotionally exhausted to move for the second time in less than six weeks.

I should have known that the tiny space allocated to me would not be enough for me. I should have known that there was no room for me here. Why did I do it? I don't know exactly. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I wanted to improve the relationship and not have a psuedo-long-distance relationship. I wanted to live cheaper and closer to The Huntington Library, which is my favorite place in greater Los Angeles. Sacrifice almost everything in the name of Love and saving money but not time. It's an almost romantic concept.

I should have known my efforts wouldn't be appreciated and that I wouldn't be welcome. Now I know.

In a few months I will probably want a boyfriend again. Men (and boys) are already chasing me. It's too exhausting to fight them off and yet some of them are utterly repulsive to me as potential partners. You want to take me out to dinner? Fine. A movie? Great. I don't want to sleep with you. Or you or you. I want to go home and sleep by myself. It's more comfortable that way. Really. I don't even want to just share a bed with you. I know that you'll charm me until you take advantage of me and leave me in the dust, and I know that you are a coward. I'm totally not interested, and I'm unamused by the pick-up techniques you learned on the internet. And all this stuff I carry, I carry on my own. I don't need your help to add to it.