I was going to say that maybe the problem is me but that's too obvious. Of course the problem is me, but not in the way I used to think it was. Not in the way it used to be. I think too much. And I spent too many years in a drug induced haze, thinking everything was wonderful, concentrating on all the good, avoiding all the bad. I believed in him before I knew him. I fell for him before I checked him. And I think I might have been wrong. And it's too late to take it back.
But haven't I been down this road before? Before the drugs, before the jump, before the anti-depressants, before the unemployment, before the move and the next move and the next.
Do I expect too much? Do I expect him to be perfect? Do I expect me to be perfect? I'm so sick of thinking and worrying about it. I need to just live. And right now I live here. No matter what else, right now I live here. And I need to make the best of it.
