We Could Have Been Golden...

"Would they even notice, would there be a change if I was gone for hundreds of days? And this is the reason why there're some people I won't miss."-Golden, Allred

You know that feeling where you're surrounded by people, but feel completely alone? That basically describes the previous month of my life. It all started back in July. Daniel heard about a job opening in New York and asked me if he should apply. This particular moment of our relationship wasn't the strongest. I don't know why I did it. Maybe I didn't think it likely that he would get the job. Maybe I wanted him to get it and choose me over his career. Maybe I felt like I needed some time or space or something. Whatever the reason, I was selfish. I told him to apply.

A lot of other events transpired--events too personal for even a private blog with a total of one follower ('sup Cort)--and he got the job and moved to Manhattan. Because I had never given it any real thought, I was unprepared for the move in every conceivable way. So here I sit. Wallowing in my dark, lonely, unmotivative financial crap hole that I created all on my own. I don't think I'm ready to actually accept responsibility for my situation just yet, but I'll settle for hating the universe and blaming everyone else for a little bit longer. Hence the need to blog again.

I am the worst kind of boyfriend. Worst kind of significant other in general. I marinated the very pickle I'm in, and yet I make Daniel feel guilty for going out and having fun with his friends in New York. I don't mean to do it, but I do. I don't think I'm completely unjustified either. I worry that Daniel will get used to going out and clubbing and bar-hopping and then when I get there, what? Will he be content returning to the boring life of monogamy, or rather mono-phily, as we tend to only spend time with each other. Will I want to go to clubs and bars and the like? I used to enjoy that kind of thing, but something comes over me when I go with Daniel. The same vice that holds me now while he parties on his own. On his own with thousands of attractive, young, single, fun faggots. Pardonnez mon français. Will he want to go with me? He never seems to have fun when I'm there. Surprising that he doesn't want to be with a manipulative, jealous Klingon, isn't it? Not a literal Klingon, obviously. Ew.

I don't think a single day has gone by this week where I didn't cry. Yesterday I think I hit a record of six pretty heavy duty sob seshes. Today I only ugly cried once. In the shower. That's where I usually do the deed. It's nice because you don't have to worry about tissues or tear-stains or runny noses. And the sound of pummeling water generally drowns out the pathetic gasps and moans of a hearty weep. See what I did there? Drowns? Water? Funny.

Tomorrow I return to work, finally. I'm excited and nervous at the same time. Excited for money, for one thing. I also hope that working will help keep my mind busy and let me focus on the things that matter. When I have too much time I start to over-think, leading to my illegitimate panic attacks regarding Daniel's social life. I just hope that working doesn't simply add more stress to the mix. That would be fun. Nothing I can do about it now, though, so I bid you a good night Blog-I-Named-Billy.

Peace.