It is a rare occasion indeed when my house is empty and I have no demands upon my time. I do whatever I want because I have the house to myself. And I know that being alone is so different from being lonely, but tonight, they were one and the same.
I rented this movie, see, and I bawled my way through it. This was no surprise to me, however, because the first time I saw it, I was in the theater and I bawled through it that time, too. Don't ask me why I do these things to myself, it's probably a wound hidden deep within my psyche that I am subconsciously suppressing. I don't even want to know.
So that's what I did tonight: I watched this movie, ate watermelon, and cried. By myself. In an empty house. During a rainstorm.
I suppose the movie's message is that you must go out and live your life regardless of what it throws at you. But honestly, it just released this deep fear inside me that the same thing could happen to me and Jesse and then I'll be really alone and really lonely. He's the one who taught me about preparing for life's what-ifs and God-forbids, and financial preparation is all well and good, but you can't prepare for death even if you know ahead of time. After all affairs are in order, I would still have to exist in a world where he is not, and I just don't think I could prepare for something like that.
All these existential feelings have left this ache in me that I can only explain as wanting to go home. And the problem with going home is that home is a really fuzzy concept for me right now. If I've learned anything this summer, it's that home has so much less to do with location and so much more to do with people. Right now, home is still with my family and my best friends, but home has also become where Jess is. Even if I wanted to keep all the pieces together, home is going to be spread out between states and people that I love and care about and no place is going to feel entirely like home. I wonder when that will change. I wonder if that will change.