Pack it in, pack it out.

I have been packing, little by little. My apartment is starting to look naked. My room is starting to look like a cardboard maze. Every night I get a box packed up. I have wanted so badly to move on from this apartment, this neighborhood. I couldn't pack things up fast enough. Then, this morning, while I was packing up just some random loose items in my bedroom, it happened. I realized that this apartment was the last physical link I have with Becky. This was OUR apartment, these were OUR things. I realized that if I kept going at the pace I was, that I would no longer be able to walk by Becky's room and say hi. I could no longer look from the kitchen into the hallway and see her coming and going. I realized that I don't want to leave that apartment. I don't want to lose the idea that Becky could still walk in the door at any moment.
I will always look to the door of the bars that I am in and see Becky walking in with that smile and excited prance in place thing she does. As I am sure I will continue to see her, if only from behind, walking up to the bar, down the street, into resteraunts, and around corners just so that I can't be sure that it is or isn't her. I guess I'll always have that.

(I hate that I don't have internet in my apartment and that I have to write this while I am at work and that I have to hide my tears so I don't look like a weirdo in the front of the office)

I found a new apartment, I will now be living on Lyon at Golden Gate. It's near my old neighborhood. It's quiet and nice. There are no crack heads, prostitutes, bums, crazies, or scum of the earth hanging outside my door. It's a happy time. I have two new roommates that I am looking forward to getting to know better. A new place that we will get to mold into our home, and that, I look forward to.

I will always love you Becky. We will always be best friends.