Last night when we were fucking, the boy wouldn’t look at me. I remember when my ex started to do that. I’m not even mad. I feel like a kid who broke a cheap toy, not even my favorite one. I just don’t want to go through the hassle of opening up Tinder again.
Because now I can work without distraction, because I don’t think he’s coming back. It’s ok. He was complicating a situation. He was making me question what I was doing here. He was jeopardizing my current empty relationship and forcing some very difficult conversations with other people. He was too much stress on my body when I really should have just obeyed the rules of my medical leave (I loved it). He made me want to do things out of order. He made me feel guilty about talking with my ex. He made me feel afraid to tell him who I actually was, or the fact that really, I’m someone else entirely. That I am a fraud, a liar, and one more word that I have not wanted to use, but as I am here, now, I will. I am a whore.
Ironically, my brother and I are talking about fish. My dream makes sense in a prophetic sense now. So much sense and too much sense. I think he misses our house too, as a matter of fact I know he does. Thinking about him hurts me so much constantly, how did we let this happen to us? I know he feels terrible, and knows that he’s causing us pain, and I know he just wants to be out of this world to stop hurting everyone around him by just being there. I know the feeling, but I know he knows it better. I don’t want to make him sad and talk about it, but I do desperately want to tell him that he’s absolutely all I’ve got, and never to even think about leaving me here alone. Ever. I want to tell him it will get better but it probably won’t. I don’t want him to leave because I am selfish.