Sadness has really hit me hard the last couple of days. Ever since Jacob and I agreed that it was not a good idea to continue living together when we move out of this apartment, I have again been hit with the reality of my situation and how much it sucks. I do still love Jacob and it breaks my heart that he doesn't love me anymore. I keep thinking to various moments in our relationship where it had been strained before and they were all resolved with such beauty and in ways that just made me love this person even more.
When he was spending every night at my studio apartment off the Morgan Avenue stop and we couldn't get enough of each other, we had our first tense argument. I don't remember what it was about. I do remember though that he wanted to write the fight down on a slip of paper and lock it away in a jar underneath my sink, to put the issue away, and to never fight again. I have no clue where this idea came from, if this was something he did with his family or something he did with an ex-lover, but it really melted any hardness I had been feeling about whatever the argument was and made me really realize how precious this person was.
My job plays lots of depressing lovesick songs and all day long today, prompted by these songs, flashes of these memories would come forward. I kept remembering how much this person loved me at one point and wondering what had happened. I remember another time in this same studio apartment, I was angry at him for something, and he was drunk and sad that I seemed angry at him, insanely drunk, and swallowed a huge handful of Advils. I forced him to throw up in my toilet, was scared he was going to overdose on Advil.
And I remember crying in the bathroom of our roadside motel in Memphis together while Bob was in the other room, crying about how much we loved each other after Jacob had injured his leg as we tried to escape this junkie who had followed us home from CVS.
And I also remembered some more recent tension we had been having. Again, I can't remember what any of these fights were about - but I do remember that I was mad and being cold and he stripped naked and looked incredibly sad and forced me to look at him as a human, wanted me to see him as the vulnerable thing he was.
And then there is the current moment that we occupy and I can't reconcile these past moments with this present one, still don't know how we got from there to here. This house that we found together, painted together, decorated together, and made a really beautiful little nest out of will be deconstructed in a little over a month's time. I won't come home anymore to Jacob on the couch, won't be able to lie across from him on the couch we hauled back here from Chelsea, and won't be able to share stories about our days. He spends pretty much every night now at this boy's house that I guess he's seeing.
And it is what it is, but that doesn't meant it doesn't suck. And it would be easier for me perhaps if there had been some huge epic fight that led to this, some horrible betrayal or deceit, but instead the person I thought was in my life forever simply told me he didn't want to be involved with me romantically anymore after nearly three years time. When someone tells you that and you are still pretty much best friends with them afterwards, it really does provoke all sorts of questions about what went wrong, what might be wrong with you, and how this could have happened. I ask myself these questions often. I don't really have any answers for them. They just make me really sad.
This sadness is only compounded by again being spit out into the world all on your own, having to struggle to think about shelter, about where you are going to live, about who might want to live with you, about whether you can afford a studio apartment by yourself, about whether you even want to keep living in New York. And honestly, I have no fucking clue. Jacob was far and away the best part of my life, the one constant thing that brought me so much happiness. And so it's really scary to again contemplate life without him. This is hitting me strongly again these past couple days (so apologies if you've heard this sob story before) because prior to a couple days ago, the plan was to still live together in a two bedroom, and I still at least had that (perhaps false, perhaps not false) comfort of knowing that this person would still be in my life regularly, that I could still come home and have a drink with him and shoot the shit.
I have been looking at Craigslist listings that are horribly depressing - ugly apartments in faraway neighborhoods that seem to announce they are domiciles for sad and lonely people.
And so I am seriously considering moving out to LA. The timing of it could work out very well since one of my closest friends from New York, Erica, is living out there now for a couple months subletting a room until November and may stay there if she gets an awesome job or would move back to her apartment in New York if not. If she does decide to stay there, I would get an apartment with her, which sounds so fucking nice right now. I have been wanting to live somewhere else for a while. New York is great but I have been here nearly a decade and feel slightly in a rut career-wise and creatively, and so I think it would be good to shake up all the pieces and try something new.
This afternoon, I have also been thinking about seeing how long I could stretch out my savings in Mexico City. There are so many options. Life is a huge, huge thing, full of innumerable choices, only limited by the constraints we put on ourselves, leases we sign and people we fall intensely in love with. Come November I will no longer be tied down by either of those things. I will be a free man, or as free as I allow myself to be. I want to do great things and fall in love and eat good food and drink beer and be in the sunshine and be alive and happy.