Butter melts out of habit.
The coffee is just water dressed in brown
I'm sorry I have nothing to complain about. I've got nothing to rip apart, I've got no destruction to report.
There is no late breaking news, nothing of any importance. Unbelievably, no heart break, though I sense my cooling, I can feel it ease back into something a little more comfortable.
Once I get a job, my life is going to be so normal, I'm not sure how long I will last without creating some type of mind bending drama.
I fall asleep with him on the phone, and I try to remember the things he says to make me feel better in the morning. That's still hard, and I'm still powerless. But at least I'm trying not to be such an asshole about it.
I don't like being called on behaviors I dislike, things that are so deeply ingrained I don't know if they'll ever work themselves out. I'm not a nice person. I'm an angry, bitter person. I'm neither cheerful or unfucked up. I don't know where to start on fixing that, and I don't know how much of myself I would lose if I did.
It's so strange to try to build some relationship without games and manipulations. I haven't pulled anything because I know it wouldn't work. Rather than make up lies about motivations, everything is open, giving me some faith.
. . .
Valentine's Day is still going to suck for the 10th year running.