busy || on loving and losing

Other than the day Tabby passed, and her funeral, I don't remember the last night I stayed at home. I've been busy with social functions and things I've committed myself to. I stop now to wonder if maybe I've done this as a preventive measure. Perhaps I am avoiding the facts that now I am single, and have no idea where my life is headed. That I still find myself fetal-postioned sobbing uncontrollably on the kitchen floor when I try to make dinner. That I can't take the pictures down; that I can't tell a random stranger we broke up (yes, my roommate thinks I have a boyfriend...he moved in less than a week ago.) I'm a mess.

In five months I will be jobless, homeless and in a city I will attempt to call home. Until January, I am letting the wind blow me. I have some things brewing in my mind. Mostly solo adventures. Mostly quiet time.

But, I wonder, am I making to many changes? They won't heal the pain in my heart, or make it feel whole again.  People say time, but I don't know if I believe that or not.

Either way, I am busy until "time" comes.