Sunday, June 1, 2008


I don't want to go home, ever, anymore. I think back to how much I used to love to come home to him, how much I wanted to be with him, in my house, our house...I am not sure what has changed, because I didn't used to feel this way about him even when he was using. I hate it when he's using, but I always love him. And I still love him...I'm just so fucking tired. I'm tired down in my bones of him, of this life, of the same problems, the same attitudes, the same stagnant bullshit again and again and again. I'm tired of how fucking self-absorbed he is. It's like my only function in his life is to be his ATM machine/personal assistant, and I'm just not so interested in being in service to him anymore. I want him to be my partner or go away.

We had a long time that things really were much better...where we really seemed to be a married couple, doing things with each other, for each other. I thought he'd made so much progress, but it seems like he's coming unglued now, and I hate the same addicty bullshit behavior.

It's sad, though, because it's so good when it's good. He's so full of hope for himself, and I get so hopeful for us together. He told me one day when we were coming home from a yoga class, his fingers twisting in my sweaty hair, that he was going to make sure that I never again regret marrying him, that he was going to do everything he had to do to make sure that every moment that we spent together from that point forward would let me know that everything he'd put me through was worth it. It lasted for a while, this feeling in lasted through that afternoon, through the rest of the week, but it's gone now, and I miss him.