sweet river roll

i am the bad guy? i am? that hurts me.  in my wildest dreams i never assumed anyone would consider ME the bad guy in all of this.

i don’t want to be the robber. i’m the cop.
i’m not the cowboy. i am the indian (depending, naturally, on the tribe of choice….)

i don’t know. i just don’t know.
i am so….agitated. so irritable. my existence feels like…like…a wedgie. one of the really bad ones that you can’t fix because you are standing in front of really important people.  and your arms are full.

and the more nuerotic he gets the more insane i feel.

tonight is really hard. i’m just generally low tonight. i have a migraine. i am tired. i am cold. and i just…would want him to be here to hold me and keep me warm. but you can’t be consoled by the person who did this to you.
i was driving home thinking “i wish i could just…have someone home when i got there. so it wouldn’t be dark. and cold. and empty.” but it is dark. and cold. and empty.

and to top it off, i found a slug in the floor.

all i want to do it cry.
and long for someone to be here to make it better. i find it facsinating how intensely i long for a male when i am sad.  it’s like my entire body craves having testosterone in the same room.  as if my body senses my estrogen upswing and wants to counter it with the opposite sex.

i don’t have a husband to hold anymore.
i don’t have a marriage to speak of anymore.
what happened? what has just happened?!

i am so terrified.

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