a time slip of some sort. telling a friend that i have to go back to my old apartment because i need to clean out the rest of my stuff before my lease runs out at the end of the month. thinking i have a week left and my friend telling me i’ve been in my current place for close to a year. what? no. but maybe? it’s so foggy i just can’t be sure. have i been paying rent for two places? i don’t think so… i feel panicked. what if they threw it all out already? we go back to check. my stuff is still there. the place is still a mess. i find a suitcase that i could use for my upcoming trip but once i look at it i don’t want it anymore. the place is almost unbearably sunny and it’s making my head hurt. my old upstairs neighbor is sitting on my mattress that i threw out a year before i moved, the very day i kicked out my ex. i don’t understand how it’s there. he’s watching my every move with a smirk on his face. this is wrong. everything about this is a waste of energy. i don’t want any of this stuff. it can all burn in a trash pit for all i care. why did i come back? what did i expect to find? i need to get out of here. i need to get back to my dog.