I swear to God, this building is a mad house (the thought of the Swedish house in the country becomes more and more alluring). If the next door-guy isn't having a screaming, swearing hissy fit then it's the people downstairs singing Bollywood songs and BUILDING something loudly.
Anyway. I guess that's besides the point.
It's just over 2 weeks left now. How scary is that? I haven't even started packing (but I have written an insane amount of lists). For someone who loves organizing things I find it utterly terrifying that I have to re-organize my entire life. I'm trying to ignore the emotional aspect of it all and focus on the practical stuff (e.g. where to live) and so far it seems to be a decent survival tactic.
Because that is what I'm doing at the moment. Surviving.
And I guess that is why I'm writing about it here, putting it all down makes me deal with it in a different way from when it's all just up in my head. Maybe I'm selfish, maybe I should keep this private and apart from the blog world.
I know that some people who read this will know me personally, might know my ex, even if only on a shallow level. And some people who read this will never have met me, will never even exist in the same space as me.
But somehow I don't, can't care. This is how I survive and this is how I make sense of the world. It helps. And in the spirit of my new, more selfish way of thinking, that makes me damn happy.
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