I didn't care that something was wrong. I'm learning to let things go, to not always 'need to know'. I'm trying my hardest to speak when I have a problem. Not to expect you to fix it but to let you know that things aren't going so well. I'm far from a complainer, though sometimes I feel otherwise. But when you lash out at me simply because of...whatever your reason is, of course I'll be hurt, and offended, and then angry thereafter.
I'm never rude to you, or anyone else (unless it's pretty damn obvious I don't like the person) only because, and god knows I wish this weren't but I don't have a pretentious bone in my body. I can't 'fake it'. I can't hide it. I like being on the the level where I am true to me, and people see that. I don't feel the need to hide behind a smile I can't stand and words I don't believe.
I deal with enough self loathing as it is and I just have never felt the need to ...give myself more.
I don't know who used to ..call you names or ridicule you when you were younger but I was fortunate enough to not have that happen to me, despite all the other bullshit I was put through.
And when you stoop to that level, I want to...just..and this is the anger. I want to physically hurt you. To pummel you. Maybe 'shoulda had a V8' smack you in the forehead for being so stupid.
And I know you aren't.
I left it with no words to you and went to bed after crying almost what seemed endlessly. You're currently 30 minutes behind schedule as it stands.
Still no words. I woke up, did what I had to do while you slept. And one you were awake, I made your coffee, which you said thank you for.
It's an hour and 10 minutes behind schedule, you're gone.
Coffee wasted down the sink, an empty hug and "I'll see you tomorrow" ..the only words spoken to me. But all you really wanted to do was leave. It surprises me how much attention you give your daughter when I'm not speaking to you. Or you know I'm mad at you. I should be mad all the time so you pay her some mind, more than you do now. Which is next to nothing.
You'll be back tomorrow and I know I won't hear from you.
And she won't know you're gone.
...It may make me a bad mom, but I won't remind her.
It's been about 2 hours and I sent a text to to.
You said you weren't going to apologize. I wasn't asking for one. And I have a pre-typed msg but I refuse to send it. I refuse to remind you of what you just said. Yet.
But one day. One, day. You'll see. Because I would have lost all patience and kindness and caring and I'll be a dangerous reminder of Last November, without the influence of alcohol.
I don't take your silence as that of you not knowing or caring.
I now take it as refusing to face and refusal to act.
Deceit.
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