My apartment now looks as though it belongs to a hoarder. Yet, even though my apartment is busting at its seams with boxes and extra reflex hammers and other useless things, my apartment feels so empty.
Martin's gone.
And now I feel so alone and vulnerable. My support system is on a plane, flying halfway across the continent, crossing two different time zones, getting ready to start a notoriously busy year as an intern in East LA - home to gunshot wounds and stabbings and other such sequelae of gang violence.
As Martin and I did all of our "last" things today before his flight - one last stroll along the river, one last brunch, one last sunrise, one last Grey's Anatomy episode curled up next to each other, one last hug, and five last couple pictures - I started to feel a little mopey.
Because I couldn't help but worry. My friendships with J and Lisa have drifted this past year. J, because he refuses to pick up his phone when I call, isolating himself so that Lisa and I won't find out about his secret trips to see the ex-girlfriend he hasn't yet (and probably never will) gotten over. And well Lisa - even though she's only an hour or so away, she's busy trying to cultivate relationships with the people she's going to be spending the next 3 years of her life with - her coworkers. That, and she's busy trying to convince herself that she can be just friends with her ex as well.
And well, if my friendships that have lasted seven years have drifted, what's to say that my 2 year relationship with Martin won't drift a little as well?
Especially since people in Los Angeles are thin, tan, and ridiculously good-looking.
And thanks to not having seen the sun in over six months, I'm pasty white, and getting fatter by the M burger minute.
Yeah, I can't really compete with those reality starlets in Hollywood.
So in the midst of my quiet musings and worryings, Martin looked at me, pulling my face in close with his hands.
What's wrong? Are you sad because I'm leaving or are you worried about something?
A little bit of both, I replied, still quiet.
Well, I'm sad that we're going to be apart. And that I won't be able to see you everyday. That we won't have dinner together. And I'm sad that I'm going to have to watch TV all by myself with no one to laugh with me. But I'm not worried. I'm not worried about us because there's nothing to worry about. We're going to make this work. And we'll be back together before you know it. Okay?
I nodded.
It's okay to be sad. But you don't need to worry. Because I love you.
And now I'm sitting here in my cluttered, but empty apartment, six hours after the fact. Sad, but not worried. Just counting down the days until I get to cross those two time zones into his, so that we can stay up past our bedtimes and laugh at TV show punchlines together.
And I'm going to be eating salads and yogurt until then. Suck it, reality starlets. Bathroom scale, please be my friend.
