Dr Maude is now on his way back to Australia. I spent last night dreaming of gorgeous blue skies, the feeling of birds of paradise on my fingers, and the sounds of kookaburras. Torturing myself, in otherwords. I\’m so motherfucking pissed off with myself; I want to be in sunny, summer-filled Brisbane right now, doing laps in our pool and preparing to start the next semester of classes. Instead, I\’m a single, independent woman, with no one taking care of me, no credit cards, no fallback crutch, and nothing to rely on but myself — for the very first time, I\’m an adult. I wanted that too, and still want it, but now that I\’m looking winter, poverty, and less than two weeks to find a place to live in the eye, the dependent non-feminist leech life is looking mighty appealing again. Particularly that pool.
Now that Maude is really gone, I\’m listless. I\’ve severed the ties and no longer feel the desire to whoop it on up. No celebrating here. Don\’t feel like doing anything but staring out at the city and listening to my poorly neglected record collection, alone. Last night — Maude\’s last night in town — my mobile was ringing incessantly with folks wanting me to come out and play. No could do; though I wanted to, I had promised Maude I\’d stay the night in with him. Now that he\’s gone, though, I don\’t want to see anyone or do anything but be numb by my lonesome self. Turn off the phone, close the inbox, pretend I don\’t hear the knocks on the door… and change my mind by tomorrow, I\’m sure.
I\’ve never been alone like this before. It\’s an odd feeling; trying to give it words but I don\’t have them ready yet.
