[Like trading cancer for a bullet in the head]
I scribbled the sentence above, which I overheard someone in the office say months ago, in my Far Side desk calendar at work on a random page and came to it yesterday. I had forgotten about it. When I saw it, I couldn't remember what the guy was talking about when he said it. Pretty morbid stuff, for sure.

Things around here are changing. Big changes, too big for the blog. Changes that don't need to be flippantly or cryptically written about, but that can't be ignored or passed over, as they constitute the most major changes in my life so far.

Phil's moving out at my request. He breached our trust in a way I can't quite forgive or overlook. It involves time and money spent on a woman who is not me. And while I still care for him — he has been my best friend for almost eight years — I can't help him anymore, or let him claim my heart. I feel like my efforts at being generous and tolerant were not just unappreciated, but spit on. His actions demonstrate to me that we don't belong together at this point in our lives. He has far too many things in his life to figure out, and I don't need to be bound to someone who finds it so easy to carelessly risk what we've built together. So I think it's best to go our separate ways for a while, maybe forever.

We both need to learn how to be alone, which will undoubtedly be the hardest part. The last time I was alone, I was a sophomore in high school. I lived with my parents and had a network of friends all around me, so I wasn't really alone. Plus, I was a kid. Now I'm in a city where I barely know a soul, with the closest friends a couple of hours away. If I get a flat tire, I'll have to fix it myself (or, more likely, call Cingular Roadside). If I lock myself out of the apartment or car, I'll have to call a locksmith. If I want to go to a movie, I'll have to go alone. If I want to eat out, I'll have to take a book. If I want to sit next to someone and talk, I'll just have to prop up a pillow. People do this all the time. Now it's my turn.

I hate that it had to end like this, and that Memphis will forever leave a sour taste in my mouth because of the way coming here has mangled everything I enjoyed about my life. I don't imagine I'll ever feel at home here, in part because I can't imagine convincing myself to get over the grudge I'll always hold. Memphis is the place I went where everything collapsed in on me and I had to face the reality of an uncertain future. Memphis is the place where I learned how much people who love you can hurt you. Memphis is the place where I realized why people rush to get married and have kids: Silence is so scary, it's tempting to make new people to be around you so you won't ever have to be alone.

We're ending this as amicably as possible, since we share pets and a deeper bond than can just be instantly severed by anger or carelessness. He'll probably have to leave a lot of his stuff here, since he really doesn't know where he's going and it won't be another apartment, but more likely, someone's spare bed or couch. I don't want him out of my life; he's important to me. And I to him. But I can't and won't love him anymore as anything more than a friend. He gambled and lost that bet. Well, more like the boys upstairs caught him pulling some fishy shit and told him to get out of the casino.

Don't ever forget how important the truth is.