I don’t want to see him tonight.
He’s getting too close to the shit. The more he does it, the worse its getting. I couldn’t sleep so well before, but now I’m doing it hardly at all. I may have fallen asleep in his arms last night. But I didn’t stay asleep in them. Oh no I didn’t sweetheart. You’re trying to help...I understand that...
I really don’t want to see him tonight. And that’s a first for me. But I will. I can do this. Put this shit back inside and forget about it. Move on. Just do it. My theme for this month apparently...just fucking do it. You’re his. That he doesn’t understand is my fault...not his. But why do I feel like it’s just a little his too? I’ve tried to tell him what this stuff is doing to my head...I tried to be honest about the condition of his toy. But I’m starting to feel like I’m speaking that other language again. He never says anything he doesn’t really think...even if its just a joke. He was upset I asked for the pinches elsewhere else for a while. But you know...he seems like someone too that would just get pissed at me for not telling him either. So tell and get pissed...or don’t tell and get pissed.. Which is preferential? After last night, I’m pretty sure I know. Don’t ask...don’t tell. I will not outright lie to him...but I will not volunteer either.
But I really really don’t want to see him tonight. I’m still afraid. Of looking at him...seeing that in his face. The fear of me...and the one in me. Text message from him as I’m writing this. He’d like to know what I want for dinner tonight.
Absolutely nothing. I don’t think I could stand quite another dinner like last
night so soon.