The thought makes me want to temper my inclination to make things personal. I haven't spent 2 years back to back since I was 17 knowing where I was going to live or who with. I can resolve to dip my explanation into the various roommate debacles everyone has had throughout time. I can also get extremely frustrated when, in the middle of lease signing/negotiations I'm told in the middle of the night 20 minutes in between jobs that neither of those signers is totally sure they were going to. Not only this, I'm told “the plan” was always some other living arrangement, figured out years previously that I'm not convinced I was made privy to.
Again, I see any semblance of a foundation rattled. I've been actively trying to record when my disposition wants to sway towards positive and then anticipate when something stupid comes in to take it out. “Yay my computer isn't totally fucked!” Funds to pay for it siphoned from IRS. “Yay find job that is flexible and pays wildly more than others!” Fuck your breaks and tire! “Yay, freedom to explore studies again and in conversations to get paid for simply owning the land!” Look, you thought you might be able to live comfortably, cheaply, and save enough to invest, but maaaaaybe you'll have to find random people to live with or store all of your stuff when people abandon you. I won't see 2 days back to back where something doesn't come in to threaten my plans.
I have to keep self-deluding? myself into thinking my long game is smarter. I guess the world is under the impression I'm crazy about always having roommates or juggling my living situation every year. I love homeowners associations and real estate management people finding ways to bilk and control. My sacrifices play very little for the antsy idealist who sees greener pastures 5 minutes away in a slightly larger bedroom.
I'm going to make a pact with you guys. I'm over it. If, and I guess it's an increasingly big if, we ever hang out or see each other again, I'm just not going to expect anything. Not a couch to sleep on or even covering the next round. I can't seem to negotiate the social world anymore and to be honest don't really want to. Consider me like the Iceman in The Iceman Cometh. Mythologize me, build me up in your heads, and when I do arrive, I'll try to spread money around and keep away from sensitive topics and disappear like a dream. Whatever my presence currently is in the world seems to either attract situations and people who are not conducive to what I want to accomplish, or exacerbates some kind of flaw or blindness on my part I'm having a hell of a time trying to figure out or put words to.
Because I can't understand it, I don't want you to feel like there's some kind of drama or blame to be spread around. And I'm genuinely worried that if I keep holding ideas about what to expect from people, other than their ability to make me want to employ language regarding betrayal and cowardice, I'm going to morph into some kind of petty super villain who keeps repeating the mistakes of his past life. We don't have to text or call. I don't care if you talk anymore. Don't find yourself tired of your normal life and move out to a farm in the middle of nowhere with me to collect yourselves. I'm moving too ignorantly with no grasp on your reasons or plans and should stop pretending I'm good for much of anything but obnoxious commentary or a better than average beer pong partner. I'm here if you need me, and you probably don't, but I think the universe is really trying to reinforce that in the most most real way I'm not only alone, but need to revel and flourish in it. Just refer back to here if you're wondering why we haven't talked in, what might amount to “forever.” It's not you, it's me.
