So long, and thanks for leaving your trash.

Mitchell moved out. And, big surprise, he didn't clean up after himself. Anything he no longer wanted, he left where it lay. Didn't matter if it was trash, candles, whatever...to him, if he doesn't care anymore, then it doesn't matter what happens to it or who has to clean it up.

However, I'm fairly certain that he left one thing as a very direct message to me. The apartment was sorta messy when he left, but there was a section of the counter top that was completely clear of anything...and in that section was, Sun Tzu's "The Art Of War". And the one thing he didn't leave? His key. That's a pretty clear message to me. I went out and bought new locks for the door, so there's no way in now, for him.

Mom was so happy he left and that I finally stood up for myself and got rid of him for good that she took me out shopping. I got a whole new set of dishes (some of mine were destroyed or simply cracked under the pressure). They're not the best, but they are definetly colorful, and should do me just fine until I can afford stuff that matches nicely.

I thought I'd feel bad after all was said and done. I did...for about two hours. Then I remembered all the shit he's done to me & mine, what he's put us all through, how the guy has never cared about anyone but himself and that feeling was replaced by something I haven't felt in a while: relief. I don't have to worry about anybody but me, now.