Fifa: Kick-The-Ball: Men & Dogs Play Catch

So I walked out on my job without any intention of finding a new one.  My apartment contract expires in two weeks and I’ve not packed a single box or got anywhere to move too yet.

I thought I had it all figured out with the boy.

Then Fifa started.  

Fucking sports are a pain in the ass.  I wonder how many marriages split because of man’s obsession with watching other men run, and sweat, and chase a fucking ball (somewhat like a little doggie playing catch with his master, would).

Usually, I can be cool about these sorts of things.

But YaY! World Cup comes once every four years and becomes the only thing that matters in life.  Watch the damn thing here, and I’d be fine with it.  At least, during the commercial breaks, we might manage a conversation; we might get something sorted out about the future that’s tumbling down on me quicker than I can blink.  I might have the security of knowing that you’re still here; even when your mind is stuck on adult men playing kick the ball.

So it exploded into a brawl that’s yet to end anything except the notion of ‘us’, it seems.  It’s such a perpetual experience, I’m not complaining about losing the boy again, just worried about my future.

Way back before he came around again; I was almost set to leave the UAE.  I’d cushioned the idea of losing my son with the concept that it might be better for him anyway.  I’d mentally prepared myself to jump back into the West because I’m truly tired of my life here.

Then he talked it all away.  Then my son started missing me more than he had been; he’d started showing a clingy nature where he only wants his mama and he literally filled my heart.  Then the boy promised to be my night in shining armor and to take care of me, because he agreed I needed a damn break from it all.

Now, I’m all fucked up again. 2 weeks left and no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing.  I’m thinking I’ve got enough money for a ticket home and that’s about it.  I’ve too much furniture to store at my moms place; and moving back in with her isn’t really an option for me.  So either I sell everything, or give it all away.

No time to spend with my son.

If I’m really going for good, I should be with my son.  I should probably inform his father that I’m leaving, and I should spend every minute with him in the meantime.  But just the thought of looking at him, knowing I’m about to walk away indefinitely is killing me.  I can’t pick up the damn phone to do it.

No time to move.

If I’m going, I should be packing up what’s important to me and getting rid of what’s not, like now.  But I can’t seem to move there either.  My house is fully livable, not a box around, not a thing moved from where it’s been homed for the past year.  One of my truly beloved friends, who always end’s up saving me from situations like this, is calling out of the blue today, and I’m not answering.  This time, I don’t think I want that help or even want to let him know what’s going on.

Everything’s on Pause.

Everything just stopped.  Once again I’ve made one or two or more shitty decisions and ultimately thrown my life into a spiraling vortex; only this time either I don’t care enough o bother, or I’m testing fate for the sake of finding out just where it throws me without me bothering about a thing before the crash.