Ding ding. We take our corners, which aren't really corners at all, but just separate areas of the bedroom, or the hallway, or wherever. I was in a bad mood first. No, I was in a bad mood first. You call me a bitch, I tell you you're stupid. It's the one two punch. But there is no blood, or sweat, or even tears. The fight is dry, the words are familiar, and I'm left with the same pit in my stomach as always. Nothing ever changes. It's like Groundhog Day. I wake up in the same fight every day, or every week, as it were. What do you want from me? I wanted something that I couldn't explain. I wanted you to understand me, to be kind, to get it. And you didn't, and you don't, and you won't. Why do I keep hoping? They say you're truly insane when you keep behaving the same way and expecting a different outcome. I feel insane with you. Or at least, awful. I am the worst, neediest, most irrational version of myself. So not only do I hate you, I hate me. And sometimes the love covers up the hate. But not right now. Now I just feel lost and angry and disappointed (in me AND in you) and tired. Because the one form of relief I could have gotten afterwards was sleep, and it didn't come. Just tossing and turning and thinking and obsessing and beating myself up. Which I can do way better than you.
