I'm procrastinating on getting food with a blog post.
Two days from now, on Saturday, I am flying to Virginia to stay with a friend for a month. After that, I make many, many smaller trips around the east coast to see friends and family, before moving permanently to California.
Let us recap what has happened in the past two months-
-I got divorced.
-A former friend turned into a stalker who was sexually harassing me. He threatened to kill my ex-husband, two of my closest friends, and himself if I stopped talking to him. I took out a restraining order and now fear for my life.
-An entire group of friends suddenly stopped talking to me, or responding to any attempts at contact. Ironically, just when I need friends the most.
-Zombie Fishfish, for who this blog is named, died on Sunday.
I think Atlanta is trying to kill me. It's doing a pretty damn good job of it.
I'm so tired, and I'm so sick of feeling angry and bitter and lonely. I'm sick of being so depressed I fall into bed and can't get out for hours, missing things I really did want to do in the meantime. I'm sick of watching my phone for someone, anyone, to ask if I'm okay.
So goodbye, Georgia. I'd say it's been swell, but these fifteen years have been hell.