Ladies and Gents, I am on a bummer tonight, and it's not just because I've been listening to Animals by Pink Floyd , which is bound to happen... but I don't know. I could be because of the holidays coming up, or my imminent return to work (a job I loathe) or it could be because my wife, who decided to leave me (and I said "ok") decided she was lonely living in an old ladies spare room and wanted to move back in (and I said "ok"), with all the baggage that comes along with it.
And I'M the one with their back against the wall for completing a 30 day stint in rehab and "fucking everything up" and leaving "a fucking mess behind that I am going to need to clean up" and what not and ho-hum...
I'm NOT the one that seems to have a boyfriend in prison for murdering their girlfriend mother of their children, while violating a restraining order and already having just recently gotten out of jail for the same or similar crimes. "but he has nobody, his family obviously isn't going to help him and blah blah blah"... maybe I'm projecting a bit, but this wasn't what I was expecting when I came out of rehab fresh and clean.
It's the half truths and outright silence around the goings on in what is supposed to be somewhat OUR personal lives that kills me... and I feel like a puppy dog that keeps coming back, just to get kicked down, in the off chance that the one time in 1000 there is actually going to be a treat and a scratch bethind the ears. Instead I get silence and fowl looks when she either thinks I'm not looking or just doesn't care.
It was a mistake letting her move back in, but I thought it meant a little something. It really doesn't.
I've been meaning to take the high road, but fuck that, really... she doesn't get that either.
What it really boils down to, when I'm not whimpering to myself, is that I need to look out for ME and define what it is that I really want in the world, and how I will accept to be treated. The Million Dollar Question, eh?!?!
