SteadyG

So it's all over. Alone in the house for a week. Maybe more. Not here much. Work. It's empty. Nothing downstairs. Not even a kettle. Ready meals for one. Brush teeth. Work. She phones about bills. They're all sorted. Bit cheaper too. No T.V. licence. No T.V. "How are you" Argument ensues. I'm going to work. She's coming over Friday. Just to talk. I don't really care. Half truths and feelings. Make me squirm. Maybe I won't stab her. Escape to town. Sulk in pub. Grumble in coffee shop. coffee... kettle. fuck,

Confronted her this morning. 15mins before she left for London. My suspicions were confirmed. She lied. It does hurt. She can't wait to see him. He doesn't believe he's actually going to see her again. --- It's because I never text her. And at least "[she] didn't go down to Newcastle to shag some bird while [I] was in hospital" (after she broke up with me three years ago, stalked me, got me back, apparently forgave me and never discussed any of these shortcomings). FUCK. Seems like a waste. A fun waste. But a waste none-the-less.

I need my friends around me. I'm moving out. I love you. I don't trust you. I want kids, no I don't. Marry me, no wait. I don't know if I want to be with you. I can't break up with you. --- I did it. I did what she could not. I do not believe I did that. She has gone a drive. What now?