This is hard stuff. I’m lonely and fighting the mean reds. I’m feeling incredibly pathetic about not feeling/being loved.
I can spend hours at the store without fielding seven phone calls about when I’m coming home. I can have male friends. I don’t have to listen to excuses anymore. I know that if the laundry isn’t put away,it’s my responsibility, rather than having asked someone a dozen times only to have him say..
I went and saw The Mook last night after work, in between picking up books from the library and heading to see Sara. She was more than a little happy to see me, rushing at me from the kitchen. Hugs, hugs, hugs, then she showed me her room, pointing out how the baskets hanging on…
Whoooooshhhh…. Keeping the title. Changing it up. I’m allowed. After all, haven’t posted to this blog in some such time. I may simply copy and paste the previous posts to a Word .doc so I can keep them but not so public. In fact, will do that just as soon as I finish this.
If there’s anything I am enjoying about being separated, it’s the silence. Yes, we still speak because we need to communicate about The Mook. However, I don’t have to listen to the grand-master plans or the whining or the yapping, yapping, yapping about himself, himself, himself.
- he never follows thru
- he’s crap at birthdays and christmas
- he lies
- he exaggerates
- i’m embarassed by him
- our sex life was non-existant
- he owes me alot of money
- he doesn’t make enough money
- he has alot of debt
- he doesn’t care take of himself
- he smokes
- he’s dependant on me
- i don’t know whether i believe most of what he says