Amicable

I almost wish this break up was a little less...amicable.
Please don't get me wrong, here.
It has been brutal. Soul-rending, knock-out, drop down, heartbreaking.
But it has also been easy.
As I get my stuff packed up (I finally started tonight, with a week left in town), I feel more like I am packing to go on a vacation than like I'm packing up my life as I know it.
As Sam put it, it has been awesome living together, since he would have gone crazy long since without another human to talk to (much as he loves our animals).
We get along so well. I still call him from work after lunch every day and discuss what we'll be having for dinner, what I need to pick up from the grocery store, what he's been doing, any asshole visitors I've had to deal with. We are, right now, best friends who happen to be roommates.
But sometimes, after I've had one too many beer*, my heart starts hurting. My mental barriers break down just enough that a crack of reality hits me. I start realizing that this is final, that my life is changing yet again, and I'll be moving, yet again.

Anyways, if it was more painful, it might be easier. If we weren't making plans of where to take the dogs (we're dog-sitting his parents' puppy while they're away) for an exciting, fun walk; if we weren't planning a going-away dinner for me with his family; if we weren't talking about our future plans, it might be easier.
Now, I'm the first to admit that if this was more difficult, I'd probably already be at my dad's, crying in the basement and making him hang out with me. I'd be a weepy, soggy mess with on;y bad thoughts floating through my head.

But maybe it would feel more real? Maybe like it really was the end?

*I've been drinking way too much than is for my own good. Nearly every night, Sam or I brings home home beer and we hide in our own befuddled, tipsy, haze. This will end when I go back to my dad's, since he and my stepmom hardly drink.
At least, I hope it will!