Alison is gone. She's GONE. Out the door three minutes ago and in about 12 hours she'll be back in New York. I don't say "home" because three minutes ago she WAS home and now she's GONE.
And I am very upset. I feel sort of like a puppy watching its owners walk away through the chain link of a shelter fence.
I hate this! I hate watching her leave--the worst part is knowing I'll be doing the same thing in seven weeks time, only there won' be anyone to say good bye to me. I'll leave the same way I came in: making no noise and creating no mark. Good bye and good luck and get out. Only to go to the US and to what? Nothing. Friends scattered across the globe by the winds of chance, held together through tremulous internet connections and lacksadasical postings. I get to start all over again. Whoopee. I'm sick of starting over. I'm sick of meeting new people and making new friends. So, fine, I'm not the edgey globe-trotter I once fancied myself, but then again I never thought I'd have to go through this world alone. I don't even have a dog.
I'm done now, I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I'm going to go pack for Paris--why am I complaining when one of my new friends here is letting me sleep on her floor for free? I'm not complaining, I'm just upset.
I miss Alison.
Maybe I'll go chew on some furniture...