My love sent me an email today linking his show next week at bigbarsanmarcos listed in the Chronicle. It’s his band’s first time in the paper. He’s so psyched and I’m so proud of him.

The first thing that came to mind was putting together a bad-ass flyer for him. Figure out a way to get color prints and larger flyers. He’d love it and the band could really use the promotion – this could be a big show.

But then I thought about what all I had to do for school – and how exhausting the past week has been. I’ve missed most of the last two weeks, not a moment to study, and with a 18 hour class load – it’s overwhelming to even think about what all I have to do. I’m a week overdue on a retaking a test I missed.

My house is a wreck.

As I do much too often, I immediately thought about how I could postpone catching up to make the flyer.

It’s a classic example of how I’ve gotten used to the “us” instead of myself and him. My mind set is stuck in this belief that we’re working together to make things good for us. We’re partners. A couple. Loyal. Together. Forever.

The forever part I just assumed. We’ve been doing this for years, growing stronger, closer, more intimate, more entwined. More wonderful.

When he told me (was it 4 weeks ago?), that there was never the intention of forever, and that he should have told me years ago this idea of a future together was never even in the plans – I should have snapped out of it.

I haven’t.

I need to – but I haven’t.

I have to write this down so I’ll read it and remember to be pissed off.

“Why are we still acting like we’re together?”, one would ask.

But I haven’t yet.