Living with people is hard. I've lived with people. I've lived alone. I've lived with people again. Then I've lived alone again. Throw in one more round for the people in the cheap seats in the back. God it's good to live alone again.
My roommate just moved out of state three weeks ago. Dear, dear friend. Pretty good roommate. Really never any problems. But I don't even miss her, and she's not only gone, she is far gone. I know I will eventuallly miss my friend, but I was suffocating. Right now I can't help but relish the fact that I can breathe again. Of course, our place was a glorified dorm room as I liked to call it. Tiny.
The night before she moved out, I got a hotel room because I just couldn't take it any more. Just Her in my Space. Her money problems being my financial burden. Her issues becoming, in a way, my issues. Our energy morphing into each other's energy simply due to proximity. I felt like her mother in a way, and I am not codependent. Ha, maybe that was the problem (that I am not codependent). I couldn't take feeling like I was merged with somebody that I didn't want to merge with.
I like to inspire people. I like to show friends a good time. I like to be supportive. I like to listen and proffer thoughts, wisdom, comfort. But that's my choice, and when I can't choose my choice because it becomes Expected or Needed, then I start to feel oppressed.
I can only live my life. I can't live someone else's for them.
~ the lady love
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