Things have been different lately. We’ve both been busy and short with each other and not spending a lot of time together and bickering over stupid stuff and just not… connecting.
Tonight I was PMSing and hungry at the same time. I texted him from the train that I was making spaghetti for dinner but he never answered my text. When I tried to call him his phone went to voicemail. I was waiting for him instead of scarfing down carbs because I was being NICE.
No phone call to tell me he’d be later than usual. He walked in the door, didn’t even say hi to me, just went right to the bedroom, took off his socks and threw them on the floor, and went to bed.
Twitter was excited to see him but he pushed her off him so she jumped down and grabbed one of his socks. IN HER MOUTH.
I FUCKING HATE FEET and dirty socks are nasty and make me want to hurl, and here’s my cat, “OUR” cat, with his fucking dirty ass sock in her mouth. She now has FUNGUS mouth. So I am in this instant fit of PMS hungry rage, yelling at him to wake up and pick his fucking socks up off the floor, that he’s giving our KID a DISEASE with his nasty ass fucking socks and we start going at it. How he’s not happy. How all I ever do anymore is yell at him. How he’s sick of pretending like it’s ok. How this isn’t the kind of home he wants to live in. How I’m not the person I used to be.
He put his work clothes back on and told me he’d be back for his stuff this weekend. And he just left… No door slam, just a quiet close and lock of the door behind him and he hasn’t been back or called or texted or emailed or walked back through the door so we could make up.
I mean nothing to him. I was just comfortable. And when I became too big of a pain in his ass he left me.
For where… I shouldn’t care, but I hope it’s his mom’s house and not… ican’tevensayit.
I have been crying for hours, feeling sorry for myself and lost and alone and STUPID for dropping my entire life in Vermont to move to an apartment in a neighborhood that can’t fucking stand me and all I ever do is go to work then go home then sit on the couch and veg just like I always did in Vermont and how is this ANY different, and this guy I MOVED HERE FOR FUCKING DUMPED ME OVER SOCKS.
Three years, two months, and one sock in Twitter’s mouth.
Down the drain.
I give up on relationships.
Good thing I love my job, since I’m still on probation and have to make it through tomorrow because I have no time off.
I hate this feeling… it sucks so bad.