I had some time Wednesday to reminiscence over the past, catalyzed by revisiting places I’ve been to every few years for the last ten. I’ve been busy since, so no time to write. It’s so hard letting go of what M called “the good things,” regardless of the absurdity of not doing so. Moving forward, I’m cautiously taking to valuing being cared and thought about.

old shit that nobody wants to talk about got dredged up today. After the anxiety passed, I feel like I’m looking at a pile of unidentifiable artifacts on a beach, pondering its making.

If you’re unwilling to identify and/or accept your defensiveness, you put those close to you in an uncomfortable situation of not knowing what is safe to talk about. ‘I can not believe you would think that about me’ is a sign of that trap. We must consider the thoughts of those close to us with humility, lest we start to believe in our own superiority.

Well. That was fun. Nothing better than talking about your relationship problems with two lawyers and a court reporter.

Apparently I’m a hipster now, as Monica teased me for BMX helmet, short haircut, graphic t-shirt, and bandanna whilst riding my fixed gear bicycle sporting a messenger bag. Most of those have perfectly reasonable expectations. But they really don’t matter.

Talked to Scott this morning about shit that’s going on, at least what I can talk about, which lead to the timing of M breaking up with me, finding out about A’s death in such close proximity to my birthday and my great grandmothers death, left out dealing with the layoffs and whatnot. It didn’t really matter beyond that it sucked.

Correction, B’s dad’s birthday was the day of my motorcycle accident. I think he would have been 25, which was how old I was when I had my accident. Still bizarre.

Fuck though. Today sucks. I can’t wait for tomorrow to be over. So much on my chest, the implications of which send waves through everything else. I’ll see B in a bit, which will be comforting, then a chance to talk with J for a while, which I wish I had a few hours for before tomorrow instead of one.