Fucking spiders

Ok so today went ten thousand times better than I originally planned it to go. No crying, no wailing like a banshee. Just calm. Guilt, yes. But calm. I'm going out with Corbin and Dan tonight so that should be fun or, at the very least, an excuse to leave the house. That's one thing about this whole mess. I never really left the apartment as it were, but he did. Often. He always had someplace to go or someone to see. Usually The Room, but nevertheless, it was somewhere to go.

Now, I don't really see the necessity. But I know I need to.

Right now I'm sitting in the bed, where I've been hiding out for the past 4 days or so, waiting for 10 p.m. to come which is when I'm meeting the boys for drinks. I need to do dishes, laundry, and clean but I don't really feel the motivation to do any of it. I'd rather sit here, collect my thoughts, and blog. :)

I wish I could construct my thoughts in a more eloquent and engaging way. But it all kind of spills out of me. And onto this computer screen or my journal. That's okay, right? It's okay to just...ramble. I think it's okay, anyways.

So I'm going to ramble - today I woke up at 10:30. Talked to Lisa and made plans for Wednesday night. I made a pot of coffee and drank it all. Smoked two cigarettes. Took a shower and actually put on makeup and blow-dried/straightened my hair. I got dressed and noticed that my clothes are fitting a little looser than they were, say, a week ago. Despite my rampant devouring of everything yesterday, the days prior to that I didn't have much of an appetite. Weird huh? Maybe not so weird. But sad.

I got to work and was pleasantly surprised that I was happy to be there. Getting my mind off of this tragedy was really wonderful, even if I hate my job. It's still something to do. I even considered picking up overtime this week. But I decided against it. I would still rather beach than work. Har har. I got off an hour and fifteen minutes early. Which is why I'm currently blogging and not still working. I ate two chicken patties (which are Justin's) and drank his Dr. Pepper. Even after this bullshit I'm still stealing his food. I'm terrible.

I want to talk to him and apologize. Just say that I'm sorry for everything and that I want to be his friend someday. Not now or maybe not even in a couple of months, but someday. Whether or not that will actually happen is beyond me. But I'm definitely not against trying. Friendship is a two way street and for him to accept my friendship is something that I cannot determine. In my perfect, Erin-centered world, I would get over the heartbreak and then move directly into friendship with him because he's a really cool guy. I'm not just saying that, either. He is genuinely an awesome man. I feel like our friendship could be something that I could cherish and love forever. But who knows when he would be over everything and if he even wants to be my friend after all of this. Considering my past with boys and boyfriends...they don't really want to have anything to do with me after the fact. But maybe this one will be different. Maybe. But I'm not banking on it, as sad as that is.

This week I've pretty much filled up with activities. Tomorrow I'm hanging out with Sarah, Wednesday - Lisa, Thursday - who knows but I'll find something to do, then Friday - New Year's Eve and I plan on spending it with Danielle and her boyfriend Toby. Maybe Courtney but she has a new boyfriend and I'm sure she'll probably want to spend it with him.

Then Saturday is New Year's Day and I hope that I feel strong enough to get things cleaned/Justin and I have come to some conclusion about the living situation. I haven't talked to him today and I won't.

I had a dream about him last night. We were driving and it was summertime. He handed me a large sum of money and then I asked him if he wanted to be my boyfriend. He said no. Then I woke up.

Sign?

The money part is clear -- I'm broke and scared about financially supporting myself while living in this apartment alone. If that's what he chooses.

The fact that he said no to my request for his 'hand' -- well, I don't know about that one. Is it me subconsciously regretting my decision to end things? Is he over it already? Were we never meant to be together in the first place? Shit, son. I may just be crazy.

He was beautiful and calm in my dream. Said 'no' very matter-of-fact-ly. But not in a mean way. Just a very clear, honest way. I wasn't sad after he said 'no' either. Maybe it's just me beginning my descent into closure.

For some reason though I don't see the closure coming any time soon. Especially once we finally see each other after all of this. It's going to open up wounds and tear apart all of my attempts of suturing up those wounds. It could all come unraveling. And I'm quite certain it will. Because that's the way things are.

Now I'm watching a spider circle my overhead light in my bedroom. Wondering who will kill that spider. Not him. Because he's not here anymore. I'll have to kill it. Goddamn it.

The spider is now on its second lap around the light. What the fuck is it doing? Waiting to feed on my flesh because I cleaned up its webs? Making a nest? Just trying to kill me? Fuck, who cares.

I just tried to kill it and failed. Now it's gone forever...ready to kill me at any moment.