It was a lethargic and utterly lonely weekend. I left the house in brief bursts only to return and cover myself with sheets and blankets. I watched bad movies. And I don't mean the good kind of bad, I mean bad, bad. Like romantic comedy bad.
I wasn't depressed, just completely uninspired. I ached and slept. It's been a long time since I've had days of solitude. I thought I missed it, but I honestly don't. Facing the world without a partner in crime is not an easy task.
I'm trying to write some silly, sentimental blog about how much I've missed my Sergio this weekend while he's been on his trip to Florida. Unfortunately, it keeps coming out as shapeless drivel. I'm going to get right to the point. I love him and I miss him. Today's hours are going to trickle by slower than the Brown Line in a construction zone. I've felt utterly incomplete. It's weird not having someone to hold your hand.
It feels precarious being dependent on someone for happiness. I've been a loner for a long time. Not in the cool sense of loner. I never wore leather jackets and smoked cigarettes behind the gym,I've simply enjoyed having time to myself, to do what I want. But that's changed. I get bored when I'm alone. All I want to do is sleep.
He gets home tonight at 11. That seems so distant. I have an entire work day and a show between now and then. It's over 12 hours away. And it's gloomy outside. And it's a Monday. Today feels like it's going to be a French Market kind of lunch day.
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