I am so mean to people when I try to protect myself. Like a fucking cornered animal. He is going to leave me, so I have to leave him. I can say whatever I want about it, and I will, I have, but that is the truth.
It’s like those dreams where everything is just so normal that you would swear it’s real life, until you find the one thing that doesn’t fit, and then comes that awestruck, almost terrified feeling as you realize that so many things that you thought did make sense actually don’t, and eye everything about your day with quiet suspicion until you just give the fuck up and go with it, ask your ex if he actually called, realize that the friends you called are actually dead, and that you never actually took the laundry out of the dryer this morning
I want to remember him wearing a black rubber apron with nothing underneath, which I also find incredibly sexy. I don’t know why, but it is super hot. I used to think of My ex like that, who was insanely attractive in his welding gear and apron and gloves although it is probably a really stupid idea to be naked underneath. My only regret is that it took me up until this point to totally conquer the shame of having a fetish, which is so weird because I have been a dominatrix for most of my life.
I *also*, and probably most severely, feel guilty that on my way out of my brother’s house, I bought a pack of cigarettes at the gas station. If I did catch anything, I pray to God that it was there. At least that way I would believe that my brother had been safe. I feel like I knew where I got it – I was going to go into the store, and an older man wearing a mask was coming out the door. I waited for him to come out, which he did… and for some reason still felt fucking compelled to walk very close to me on his way into the parking lot. Like almost touching, what a fucking douchebag. It was unnecessary.