Tag Archives: packing up

The things I couldn’t carry.

9 Aug

I was working from home all day yesterday and didn’t get to share what actually happened while I was packing my stuff up and moving it out of my ex’s. The Rilo Kiley post was exactly how I was feeling yesterday though. When I was in a relationship with the ex I preferred Jenny Lewis’ version of Silver Lining without her band but now I enjoy the Rilo Kiley version more because I am starting to feel good again. I feel so alive! This is her version alone. Can you tell the difference and see where I am at with it?

I think both versions are beautiful but her version alone seems so desperate. Maybe desperate isn’t the right word but listen to both and you will know what I mean.

So, Saturday. I went to the ex’s to pack up my stuff and I hadn’t remembered clearly just how much stuff I still had there. He was there, he offered me something to drink and I used his house phone for 45 minutes to set up my new blackberry because I couldn’t do it while on my blackberry and it’s the only phone I have. A little weird, I know.

It was hard to be there and see my stuff there when it didn’t belong there anymore and remember of the times it did belong there. All of the things I have ever given him, like nicknacks, and notes and rocks that I had picked up and saved for him are all still on display on the ledge in the kitchen. He has a photo of me taken in Oaxaca, Mexico,  on the wall near the notes I’ve left for him with kissed lipstick prints and postcards I’ve sent to him while I was both away without him and on vacation with him. On the inside of his apartment door there is a note that says,

Dear BG, (he called me baby girl)

Please turn the heat up if needed.

…(a few other things)

Missing you,

Sugar

*SIGH*

I brought trash bags to load my stuff into and I cleaned out my drawer full of winter sweaters since I hadn’t stayed there since February. I packed up all of my jewelry and razors and highheels and I put in a pile what I couldn’t carry. In the middle of all of this he was reading in his room but he came in while I was standing in the middle of the study with all of our memories around us and I was crying.

He said, “Why are you crying now? I know you love to cry.” I know what he meant but I didn’t say anything but, “Yes, I like to cry.”

As I was standing there crying even after he left the room I text my mom and asked her if the next time she was in Philly could she pick up the things I couldn’t carry?

Then with my phone in my hand, I get an email from the other story, for another time, the guy that I kissed.

Uhh.

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