as it stands right now…
the words “we need to talk” are threatening to tumble out of my mouth in projectile word-vomit every time I meet his eyes.
I don’t love him anymore. I never did get the lightning strikes… the warm fuzzies just kinda settled and turned into dust bunnies.
I am happier in the presence of friends than I am with him.
I wanted to tell him not to come over, that everyone was going home already (even though they weren’t and we were having a great time).
when he came, instead of being supportive, I felt repressed, pushed into the little box marked “taken.”
and by the end of the night, I just wanted to run. run far away and never look back.
because if I did, I would see his forlorn, broken-hearted puppy look left in the dust, and I’d know that I am scum.
I’ve known for a long time, I suppose. I wanted to break up back in December. but I stayed because he’s safe.
and, all in all, he loves me. I know I’d have a good home, good husband, good father.
I’d still be trapped. I told him to never refer to the future as certain again after I had a mini-panic attack at his casual use of the word “when” instead of “if.”
fuck my life.
