Operation: RESCUE

She was in need of rescue from a not-so-great area of town at 1 am. So, I went out and saved the day. Truth be told, I’m more concerned with my restful sleep than I am with my desire to ignore her cries for help, malice there entwined. I COULD have said: fuck it. And I would have been in my right to do so.

Ultimately, she’s just another person asking for help and in my limited capacity, it made me feel good to DO SOMETHING. Even if there was no logical gain. I got her to the apartment, were she can sleep. And therefore, I can rest easy. I’m an absolute ass, until needed! So Huzzah!

Will has all but stopped talking to me. Not sure what I did there, if anything. Hopefully he reads this and goes: “hey, I’ve neglected that fucking dude for too long.”

I was also thinking: hey, this isn’t so bad, this whole life/living shtick. Not too shabby, considering where I WAS HEADED.

As for Jax: she has no solid plan. Her circle of work-friends has utterly crumbled under the strain she placed on those flimsy relationships. Her mom is petitioning a return to Florida. Yikes. Now disowned and bitter, she has no one left to turn to, save the puppy who won’t stop following her around town. No else is likely to cooperate or help her. There’s gossip, and innuendo, and rumor in the place of good, effective communication between people. It’s a drama-filled existence that suits me not. She has no place for the cats to go… bonus? Which means on Tuesday, I have to take them to the Humane Society. I will also be recycling a great deal of her stuff. Tupperware drawers, miscellaneous nick-knacks all going the way of the fire. Purged clean, hopefully leaving the apartment spotless and ready for new people to live in. And our deposit back. Digits-crossed.

Without the memories, this whole thing would be done by now. Hard work, yes, but feelings make that work even brutal with their nagging, useless contributions. It’s so clear to me how she does not look at me with love anymore, even after my shiny rescue was complete. I could feel her awkwardness, her struggle for understanding. Between the sniffles and sobs… she found answers the easy way: looking to dramatic change, dependence on others and disregard for doing the things we would have needed to do to fix our mutual lives. Alas. None of that will ever be.

I have some hard decisions to make coming up here. Tuesday the awning-room arrives, so I will finally have a place to set up shop and get working on an individually managed space. This should help correct the identity-breakdowns I’ve been having lately.

So, 1 – 2 am rescues are a welcome way to build reputation and merit as an not-asshole person. Maybe someone other than the Three Bailey-teers will go forward having figured that out.

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