Tonight, I am anxious. I am sad. I did not want to do the dishes tonight. I feel like I've been cleaning dishes for three days straight. I want to boycott the kitchen. I wish I didn't have to eat. I wish I didn't get hungry. At least for right now, I'm over food. The last thing I saw you do was wash dishes. You washed dishes in the kitchen while I went to bed sad, crying over us. Your back was to me, you were in your boxers frantically washing dishes, because you just didn't know what to do with yourself, or your thoughts. I feel so stupid. Why did I ever let myself get so sad around you?
I look for your comfort in places I know I won't get it. Sometimes (like tonight) this makes me feel very uncertain about my life, and about the choices I make for myself. It's painfully obvious that I want affection, and want to feel good. I want to be hugged and kissed, and told that everything's going to be alright. But, this just isn't my life. Why can't I accept the life that I do have? This is not the best state to be in, but I can't ignore how I feel either. The dishes were hard to do tonight. The last time I saw you, you had your back to me. I wish I had asked you to come to bed. I don't know if it would have made a difference, but god how it pains me, the last moment of you in my life, you at the sink feeling so utterly alone, lost in your anxiousness, and me in the bed doing nothing to make things better. My stubborn pain locking me in my own stupid personal narrative. Maybe we needed a break, because fuck, that's just how people are sometimes, and that's just what they need from each other, but if only that night I had said, "Come to bed. Don't wash those dishes. Let me love you despite me," I would feel a whole lot better now. There were many things I wanted. There were so many plans. They all included you. I'm sorry if that was unclear at times. Sometimes it was unclear to me too, but deep in my heart I thought we'd be safe from ever feeling pain this great. I suffered for my foolishness. I was weak.
I look for your comfort in places I know I won't get it. Sometimes (like tonight) this makes me feel very uncertain about my life, and about the choices I make for myself. It's painfully obvious that I want affection, and want to feel good. I want to be hugged and kissed, and told that everything's going to be alright. But, this just isn't my life. Why can't I accept the life that I do have? This is not the best state to be in, but I can't ignore how I feel either. The dishes were hard to do tonight. The last time I saw you, you had your back to me. I wish I had asked you to come to bed. I don't know if it would have made a difference, but god how it pains me, the last moment of you in my life, you at the sink feeling so utterly alone, lost in your anxiousness, and me in the bed doing nothing to make things better. My stubborn pain locking me in my own stupid personal narrative. Maybe we needed a break, because fuck, that's just how people are sometimes, and that's just what they need from each other, but if only that night I had said, "Come to bed. Don't wash those dishes. Let me love you despite me," I would feel a whole lot better now. There were many things I wanted. There were so many plans. They all included you. I'm sorry if that was unclear at times. Sometimes it was unclear to me too, but deep in my heart I thought we'd be safe from ever feeling pain this great. I suffered for my foolishness. I was weak.
