1 gah. he's probably fine. I seem to recall he's got a metric shitload going on now.

2 Well, I know he moved recently and he's had a g/f for few months, but it seems that since Rob died and I got back from Ga., Paul's gone now, too.

I met Paul because of Rob.

So, I lose Rob, then shortly thereafter, Paul too?

It's kinda like getting kicked in the balls, which is bad enough (Rob dying), but then, you slowly start to realize that it is worse than you than you "hoped" at first because, yes, both balls were hit (Paul's gone).
(As if yer hopin' for anything other than to die when ya get smacked in the nads...)

I've talked to him once in the past few weeks.
Right before he moved.
And, I was really careful to not get goofy, one way or the other. I didn't give him shit about "where ya been", nor did I get all clingy and weird because I was finally talking to him.

Except for periodic ineptitude on my part with computers which requires his help and knowledge, I try not to add to his load.
In fact, I even expected that once he'd found his lady friend that he'd not have near as much time to just hang out and bullshit.
But, jeez, man...

I'm a Taurus.
I hate change.
That's because change is rarely ever good.
(Heh... now that I think about it, I really do hate change, yeah, but I think I take it to an extreme in at least one case. In addition to hating change, I also hate math. We all know that.
Consequently, when I pay bills, I always pay them a day or two early (we're talking online, btw) and I always round up to the next highest dollar to avoid having to fuck with... change.
Like I said before... I have issues... *grin*
(Issues about which, btw, it would be profoundly helpful to talk to Paul because his perspective is awesome... but I digress...)

I hate change.

And, everything has changed.
And, I mean everything.

Blogging has changed, lost it's luster almost.
I can't find Paul.
Since I was sick, the diet rootbeeer I used to like now tatses medicinal.
I don't get the almost instant "burp return" I used to either, which is beyond weird, bordering on "makes me nauseaous", which is pissin' me off.
I don't seem to eat hotdogs anymore, which I love, and is also pissin' me off because now when I happen to get hungry, finding something else that easy to make is a bitch if I don't have SpaghettiO's.
Not to mention what's coming up around here with Jr. turning 18 and having to go to Jersey and court to get the child support stopped and shit... and him getting his license and killing himself in my old white Firebird... God help me. Him. Us all.

And, yeah, I know... some of this shit is trivial.
But, added up, it's like that snowball that engulfs Rocket J. Squirrel in the Bullwinkle cartoons.

And, the longer I go without Paul around somewhere (much like Rob usedta be), the more lost I feel and gone he seems to be.

And, oddly enough, the longer I go without Rob, the worse it gets about Paul.
(Which I kinda feel is unfair of me, to have Rob's absence added to the weight of Paul's, but I just realized it and I'm not doing it on purpose... it's just true.)

*sigh*

Yeah, I've got a decent sized knot in this rope I'm hanging onto, haven't fashioned it into a noose yet, but...

it's fraying above me.

Rob was the first cut.
And, it was a deep one.
Like a real rope, it's not healing.
And, all this time without another one of my very few people I trust is just more of the strands snapping.

*coupla minutes later*

So.
Can ya tell how bad I need to talk?

Thanks for answering me in the first place.

I feel like I can almost breathe now.

*hugs ya*