Packing

I didn't realize just how much crap I carried home with me until just now. I'm having to pack it all back up, and doing it with my gimp foot is no picnic. Everything takes at least twice as long as it normally does, and my foot's starting to throb because I've been on it so much. So I sat down to write a little blog post.

This is going pretty well, considering how hard it is for me to stick to my guns and actually keep up with things like this. It hasn't been a week yet, though, so we'll see how it goes.

My family is watching The Ides of March in the living room. It's a great movie, but I'm not in the mood for a political thriller. I'm actually leaning towards a well deserved nap. Packing is hard work, and I'm not even halfway done yet. I have to pack up the mounds of bathroom supplies I've allowed to explode everywhere. Plus I haven't even started packing the mountain of clothes I'm taking back with me. Then we add in shoes, books, movies, and some stuffed animals and a blanket. That's quite a bit of packing to do.

I hate packing. I hate everything about leaving, pretty much. I want to go back to Iowa, but not really at the same time. Getting away from Alvin will get me away from the boy who's become something of a destructive force in my life. I say boy, because he acts like he's 16 instead of 21. Its not because he plays video games and doesn't like to leave his house. It's the way he acts around girls. He moves too quickly with them, saying "I love you" after one week of dating and quickly moving from one girl to the other. He dumped his previous girlfriend, and not even three days later had a new one. His excuse of "I'm not ready to get into a relationship" seemed a little thin when he showed up with a new bitch, proclaiming his love for the world to hear.

I'm just the tiniest bit bitter because though we're friends, that's not what we started out as. We started out  as two people who liked one another, and it escalated into suggestive text messages and long conversations at night. I couldn't wait to come home and see him. On my birthday, two days before I was on break, I got the news he was dating someone else. Then we were two people who didn't know how to act around one another. We turned into friends, then we were fighting, and now we're kinda friends. The only things that haven't changed about our relationship are my feelings for him. He keeps blowing me off for his new girlfriend, and it pisses me off so much I can't see straight sometimes. I'm leaving for Iowa tomorrow, and he hasn't bothered to actually spend time with me. We've seen each other a few times over the SIX WEEKS I've been home, not including church, which is cheating. He's the pastor's son, so he's kind of obligated to come to church. And I'm swarmed by other church members when I'm there, so I don't see him much anyway. The times we've seen each other have been with other people, excluding the one time we sat outside his house for two hours and talked because our relationship had deteriorated. There was a lot of discussion, and it appears we've reached a fragile truce with one another. Now we're testing the limits of this new friendship, and I hope it lasts.

This is what happens when I pack. It gets far too easy to stop doing anything productive and reflect on things. Like how much I'm going to miss my family. Like how much I'm going to miss attending church every Sunday. Like how much it hurts to leave that damn boy, despite all the anger and frustration I feel.

Leaving is going to suck.