Defeated Expectations

Trying to be grateful for my beautiful new home with the killer yard at a killer price, but I'm just sad. When I moved out to California from D.C., I had fears about leaving a city I loved for a state where I knew I really didn't fit in, even though I grew up here, but the things I thought I could count on to be great assets were:
1) I'd be close to family.
2) That meant, first of all, that we could work through some of our sadness and be there for each other.
3) I also figured we'd save a lot of money in flying me home for Christmas.
4) I imagined having my mom there to help me decorate my new apartment when I finally got one and helping me create works of art for my students in my classroom.

All of those things have been defeated:
1) We're spread out through the state in ways I never thought we would: Jon is in a halfway house in El Monte, Mom is living with a boyfriend who seems to be a royal scam artist and I can't bear to watch the shit hit the fan, Dad is in the house alone, and Matt is planning a move to New York, or Florida, or San Francisco, depending on the week-- anywhere far away from here.
2) We can't seem to sit in the same room together, let alone work through sadness.
3) We've stopped observing Christmas.
4) Mom is too busy with the new boyfriend mentioned above to help-- she had to work Tuesday, naturally, but she planned a trip to Phoenix to meet Mark's parents this weekend instead of helping me get the apartment in order as we had planned.

Dad got Jon out of his house for a few days to help us with the move, and I kept noticing how intricate the designs were and kept telling him how delightful they were. I just found it on my couch and found this written on the top: "Love should be forever; I die alone."

We're either royally good at putting on the emo act, or we're truly tragic.