moment

In my apartment. News on the radio. The kettle on, water to heat my stale coffee. SK is across the river, packing. In half an hour I will drive over there, pick her up, take her to dinner, then back to her place. Our last night before she's gone. Fucked up limbo, these past two weeks. I hate school. I'm broke. I'm taking presents to SK that aren't wrapped or even nestled in a cute gift bag. Have I done enough? What kind of send-off would I expect if I was the one leaving for 7 months? I would be freaking out, I think, and whatever send-off I got, I'm sure it would feel all wrong. I feel all wrong right now and I'm not even the one leaving. I just bought crimini mushrooms and a huge tomato (but imagine SK's british "to-mah-to") for the breakfast she'll make us in the morning -- and I think, "Why is *she* making breakfast? She's the one leaving. Shouldn't *I* be making breakfast?" There's always room in relationships for fucking up and failing and flailing and hurting and falling short and missing the mark and jesus christ! What do you do? Keep trying, I guess. Nose down, keep trying.

I got home an hour ago and found a pot of daffodils and croci sitting on my front steps. From SK? Probably. Unbelievable. She's leaving and she's the one bringing me presents. I can't shake the feeling that I suck.