I threw all our clothes into trash bags just to make sure they made it to the house alright. I knew I was going to have to wash all of them when I got here. Little did I know, this washing machine is a little janky. It stops in soak mode and I have to go twist knobs and push on the door and all sorts of wacky stuff. So, the millions of loads of laundry that I have to do now takes just a little while longer. *Insert eye roll emoji*
On the bright side, I am finally going to rid my clothes of the horrid stench of cigarette smoke that lingers in every corner of P’s stuffy ass house. Our room was the worst of them all. Even the clean clothes in the closet reeked. I grabbed my shit, hangers and all, and threw them in bags. When I got here and started unloading, the smoke smell was almost too much for me. It’s funny how once you step foot in a clean house you can immediately tell that you probably have had more than one person turn their nose up at you due to the overbearing smoke smell that fills the air around you.
Needless to say, I pulled the clothes off the hangers and put them in with the rest of those that needed to be washed.
P has been messaging me nonstop. Telling me about all the stuff I left over at the house. Trying to get me to come back and see him ASAP. I brought all that we needed so I wouldn’t have to go back right away. I need space. He was my best friend; I don’t know who he is anymore.
J won’t text me back. I kind of figured that would be the case after P pulled the shit he did last night. I wish he would just, I don’t know, be real with me. You can’t help what you feel, right? So, if he feels something, why won’t he just tell me? It doesn’t matter either way, I’m not trying to jump in to anything serious (or at all) right this second. But if I were going to later on down the line, I would want it to be with him. I just don’t know where his head is at. Probably more focused on grieving and being there for his family; I’m just being crazy.