Moving On

A rough first draft monologue...

No. Don't interrupt me. That's not allowed anymore. Not after last week. You can't walk out of my apartment - no - you can't walk out of my life and then expect me to just get back with you because you were 'confused'. There's nothing confusing about me saying that I don't want to move, and you saying that you do. Sure, we were arguing, but you left and slammed that door dead bolt shut before I even had the chance to figure out that you were gone. And stupid me, huh? Waiting up all night, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you would show back up, say you were sorry, or even at the least give me a chance to say that the reason I didn't want to move had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that I was scared. I've never lived anywhere besides this city my entire life. My parents live 10 miles away from me now in my childhood home with my favorite dog buried under the oak tree in the backyard, and I've gotten my hair cut at the same place since I was 8. I like the life I have here because it is the life I know. You left before you gave me the chance to even think about finding a new life somewhere else. And you know what the worst part is? I love you. Well, loved you. I could have imagine a life with you in any dirt ally or golden mansion on this planet, but you didn't give me the chance to think about that before you left. Since then, I've had a lot of time to think, and you know, I think it's best if we just end this thing - us - now.