big greenishblue pills.

Landry just left, having chivalrously joined me for take-out in my days of need. I just tossed back two hugeass Nyquils which she implied will either kick this colds ass or kill me. So far, I'm holding my own.

I've just narrowly avoided a nervous breakdown, mostly because my mother wasn't home to field my call - her voice upends me anytime I'm stressed out. I started crying on the phone with his uncle but he couldn't tell because I have a cold. A sniffle is a sniffle... my voice cracking a sore throat. I've gotten letters and phone calls from his friends and fucking family with an outpouring of support, and encouragement, and wishes of strength because they all know how hard this week is. And how strange it is. And while it made me feel supported, it made me feel like a fool all over again... and I'm not sure why.

I was around the corner Sunday night for the first time since December from a restaurant we loved in Boston. A restaurant we flirted in, we planned our house in, and that we decided he should move out in. And I felt nothing.

Except shut off...

Which we all know is never safe for more than a little while, and which is really fucking scary because I can't figure out if I'm in control of it and it'll all be fine until I have the wherewithall to process it, or if I'm being lulled into a false sense of security. Deluge imminent sort of thing. And I'm hoping its control.

I heard his voice for the first time since early this year, and I stayed shut off. I stayed shut off when i knew in the background at the storage place he happened to be standing, that his parents were giving him furniture for his apartment that I saw once, furniture to continue his new life... and I was struck by how fucking strange it was to have this alternate universe, where we don't go home to the same place.