The worst start to anything, but still. A start.

Driving to Fitzroy through North Richmond has always been the strangest exercise. The traffic there is crazy - Victoria Street at any time of night, let alone a Friday. People were out in lots despite the cold — and it has been cold, compared to the thirty degree heat of the previous days. I picture it and just want to stay in bed.

Recently I made a decision, the consequences of which I am currently trying to process. I think I lost a lot of people’s respect on this day - possibly a little of my own for being so weak. Too weak to save someone some serious grief, one could argue. Too weak to distinguish my own wants and needs from someone else’s superimposed, like always.

Possibly too weak to love someone and walk away because (at the end of the day) I know life gets in the way - older, wiser me. I should be the responsible one. Also, I love so easily.

Two weeks. Two weeks.

As Coral would say, is it actually love if it’s only two weeks? Compassion, empathy, the desire to comfort — all these are sometimes called love too.

But honestly, aside from the textbook answers to things, I was thinking that living a flawless life was dull. So what? Life is messy. People go for the things they want. Desire is messy - stains bedsheets, stains lives. I’ve avoided so much of life trying to stay mess free since the early years.

I did this. On my own. And I will deal with this on my own, whatever happens. I’ll see it through.

Love is still the dirtiest word I know.