New beginnings, that could mean anything really. But, let’s start from the beginning. On July 4th, my boyfriend asked me about how I would feel about moving in with him. I was shocked at the question, but my brain misfired and I automatically said yes. Of course, I wanted to say yes, and I’m excited. We’re house hunting, actually looking for a house, and it feels so weird.
I keep telling myself that it’s okay.
I am turning 26 on Sunday, and this is a normal step people, “my age,” might make. And it feels right. I even have two jobs now that I start in a week and I should have enough money. Fuck, more then enough. Mama’s getting herself a pair of Ugg boots. I just want enough money to be able to help my boyfriend out like he helps me.
Which is fine. Really.
Then… the ending.
The end, sorry it took this long.
The ending in terms of how previous relationships have functioned. Old friends become new again, and traditions are forgotten. Sometimes I find myself falling silent, to let the others talk. She talks about her love life and gossips. It’s not the same and it tastes strange at the back of my throat. But it is what it is. I suppose.
Then there are my other friends.