Complications

It's people like you who make it so that people like me are never truly happy. It's boyfriends like mine who can never raise their voice at you for a year and then spend twenty minutes screaming over text message and bring you down so far you can't remember what the sunlight look like.

I spent a half hour looking at a map today. The empty squares with lonely highways and rivers stir hope in my heart and suddenly I'm dreaming about farms and peaceful small towns. Yet there is the painful reminder that I'd break my mother's heart if I don't follow her to California this fall. If I leave I break his and hurt my best friend. Life is never easy is it?

The house is sold and I'm evicted in three weeks. Is being homeless romantic? I doubt it.