Something in between

I don't understand you. You think you're so damn intelligent and I'm not denying that you have some smarts but in some ways you are downright stupid. Did you really think I would keep doing everything for you and not expect something in return, even the slightest gratitude? Do you honestly feel that turning into a basket case because I don't reply to a text but then ignoring me when you know I'm not out doing whatever it is that you think a whore like me does when you're not home is going to make me love you more? Is waking me up at 8am on fucking Sunday fucking morning to tell me I don't love you and I'm probably in love with someone else and asking if I am I going to leave you is really the way to make me want to stay? Do you think that not touching me, not letting me touch you, denying the fact that you don't touch me and then still not fucking touching me is what I'm looking for from you? You think I don't want that more than some fucking Valentine's gift? You live in some fucked up world in your head that has completely different rules that I don't understand but I'm supposed to figure it out myself and be the perfect woman at all times? Fuck you.
***

You know what, me? I think it is me. Last night I was wondering if maybe the reason I keep ending up with men like this is because I'm doing something wrong. And I am. I'm getting sucked in by words and bullshit and when I'm left here with my heart dangling off my sleeve by a thread I snip it and walk away. I so fucking want to walk away right now. When he gets on like this it drives me out of my fucking mind. But I'm not going anywhere today. I'm sticking this out for a while longer, if only because I don't have much of an alternative.

Goddammit, I can't believe I fucking did this to myself again. This is the last time, I'm telling you. The last time. The next man is going to give me some fucking respect and consideration and not be such a damn dick all the time. But he also won't be a wimpy sap. Something in between, I just want something in between.

Motherfuckingfuck

Fuck.

Prophesize this

He said I don't love him anymore because I didn't fold his underwear before I put them away. And because I stopped sending goodnight texts. And because I didn't want to put cream on his back yesterday. But apparently waking me at 8am on Sunday to tell me this and then blasting Family Guy on the bedroom TV will make it all better. Fuck me. Christ.

What happened?

Where did you go? What happened to the man I fell in love with? Is he still in there somewhere? Or did I make him up? I miss him and I want him to come back. But I'm not even sure if he exists anymore. And that's what scares me the most.

"That thing"

Love, Loss and What I Learned

This is a post I read on a website I discovered today. She talks about "that thing", that doubt that can creep into a relationship. This is what scares me most after the fighting Jeff and I did last week, especially the commitment talk. I'm afraid I will catch "that thing" again. And I don't know if there is a cure for it.

Happiness

The secret isn't getting what you want, it's wanting what you get.

The problem?

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.