Fuck ovulation. Fuck alcoholism.
I hate ovulation…when I’m not getting laid. Which has been the last…6 years?
I hate when I feel like this. So lonely- of course, he’s already tanked when I get home from book club and wanders off to bed. Fuck his lame ass.
This is the night of realism. That this is not sustainable. That this is a reminder that the plan is to build the business, then get the fuck out.
Fuccckkkkk I am so miserable tonight. I want to take a long ride with him, smoke a blunt, then go back to (hotel room?) and fuck our brains out. I miss intimacy so much, I miss him like crazy. Whhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy does my brain have to fuck with me like this. Whhhyyyyy do I have to be married to someone who delivers the financial security but nothing else? Why does that have to mean so much to me? Oh, wait- childhood financial insecurity, that would be why. Oh yeah.
Let’s throw FUCK CHILDHOOD TRAUMA in the mix as well.
I could climb the walls tonight. I should go play in traffic.
No, I’m kidding and being dramatic. But I’m fucking miserable, and I have to get up super early to deal with my annoying father (FUCK ALCOHOLISM). And god, we don’t even have time to unpack that basket of shit.
What happened to the attitude change we were practicing? That’s on fucking hold. Give me 24 hours and I should be in a better mental state.
This is just my hour of real shit. And whining. First world whining, to be exact.
Tomorrow I will be much more sensible and grateful. But not tonight. Tonight I want him.
One of my worst traits is selfishness. I am a super selfish bitch, and possessive as hell. That beast is alive and well tonight. Caged up by morning? Hmm…we’ll see.