Trying...

There. I tried. Frozen statue.

Isn't it interesting?

And terribly, terribly sad.

I'm finding my limits, and my limitlessness all at the same time.

I'm finding old things, that have built new things, that fit at the time because they had to.

I'm finding new things, and I think he is too. I think his idea of me is changing. This will all come down to how well I can stop myself from saying very mean, very old things, which is part of how I have gotten to be so good at being independent.

I have stopped complaining about his hours, but I'm going to start again. Do you think it will help? He feels stuck in his hours too, til summer time, but does he need to hear how much I hate this, all the time? Is that it? Do I seem like I'm too good at dealing with it? Maybe I am, but if he wants to rip off my bandaid, he can see it all if he wants. He can see me hating and raging against the stupid hours that force me into messed up routines, and keep us trapped in some psychotic dance of "pay attention to only me, right now."

He's sad that I don't need him, and last night said "don't rely on me" all in the same breath.

TWO MORE MONTHS? Really?