I know I’m not meant to feel this way, and it wasn’t meant to be implied. However, I have now justified that I’m just a worthless distraction that isn’t worth much time. I question my resolve to continue, the though of quitting has crossed my mind several times. I’ve spent many a time fighting for something that, in the end, turned out to be something that needed to end. For some reason, I continue, despite the tears, the hours sleeping. I just want to keep sleeping right now. Wake up when it’s all passed and moved on, take a break and wake up to the prince destined to wake me. Dreams, fantasies. Regardless what they start out to be, they crash. Any work of art eventually disappears, the need to be rebuilt, constant rebuilding. It’s tiring. Can’t handle it any more. I want to go, but I’m cemented in my spot. Can’t move, can’t feel. Burning hot showers to feel something sweeter than the pain I wallow in, the desire to start a fight, just so I can get my ass kicked in ways that break every single bone to shattered glass. Priorities. We all have them, I’m just not one of them anymore.

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  1. Its not that you’re not worth my time. I’m loosing any sense of what to do. Every time we talk, if what I say is not what you want to hear, your response is to close down. You say you want things done around the house, yet I can’t get you to move forwards on them. This morning you closed down and after a bit of looking at a blank wall, I refused to scale it and went away. I did work around the house all day, like yesterday. My only two days off spent doing work in the yard. Yaay.

    Case in point: the back yard. You’ve bitched about it for the past summer. I’ve had other tasks to do, around the house and elsewhere. You don’t like working outside in the summer and you don’t want to live in a condo. You practically rail against both things. The yard isn’t going to magically clean itself up, nor will it maintain itself.

    This weekend, what with the good weather and lack of funds for more insulation or lumber, I decided that yard work was the task to cover. However, I couldn’t get you to budge to do any work. Nearly an hour was spent being cozy on the couch and in bed. After you turtled up, I gave up and went to work. I cleared scrub, vines, junk trees, and did more work on the front. I shredded all the front yard’s clippings and much of what I cut down in the back to mulch. You spent the entire day sulking and being depressed. I’m not sure what to do. I’m not sure if screaming at you will get you moving or not.

    I’m so unhappy with it that I spent more time hacking at vines and scrub with a hand tool because that felt better than going at them with a chain saw. I need you to show the same drive that you put into the egg into the things you keep bitching at me about the house. I need you to grow some skin. I need you to think about priorities around the house and things in your life and stop waiting for a dream. You don’t wait for dreams, you make them. It takes work and sweat. I need you to show some more maturity and realize that I’m not throwing you over for inanimate objects.

    My Priorities are:
    Maintaining the house/grounds (concurrent with below)
    Insulation
    Fabricating Garage Doors
    Storm Windows
    Electrical work
    Exterior painting

    They are not:
    Front room trimwork
    Defoliating the rear patio
    Back Yard landscaping
    Sun room re-design

    I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve put you on hold, but I’ve felt like I was on hold since you met Gary and that went all pearshaped. I’ve been patient as I’ve been in a long time. I’ve also felt quite alone. I’ve about reached my limit. So far I’ve not had the courage to have it out with you. I need you to sober up, stop feeling sorry for yourself and realize that there’s work to be done both with us and with the house.

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    1. When things cooled down enough, I went out and worked on the back yard. I worked on it till it met my satisfaction, in fact, I don’t recall bitching about it lately.

      And this isn’t about the fucking house, it’s about us. When you’re around me, your mind is elsewhere. It’s figuring out house stuff because it’s more important than taking the time for us to just be together. When I say I’m not a priority, it’s because I’m not. You spend more time shirking away to your own little world to avoid dealing with me, dealing with the way that I don’t communicate, and to just flat out avoid me. Yeah, I spent the majority of the day whimpering away in the room. Crying every so often because I was watching the life I’ve tried to build slip away. The problem with talking, is that’s ALL we do. We’ve discussed the concept of spending time together, yet I’m the one that rants about it and tries to allot the time for it. I come home and suggest going to see a movie, you tell me I need to plan it more in advance (I did, asked you a couple nights before if that was a good time to go out), and promptly turn back to your damned computer game and let it soak you in. Did the same thing last night. Did it ever occur to you to ask me what was wrong when you claimed your priorities and I said, “Fine” and then rolled over? Has it ever occurred to you that while you’re off in your own little distractive world, that I’m sitting on the couch next to you, wondering when the hell you’re going to get off? If it’s necessary, I’ll be more than happy to start demanding you get off the computer, so you can make all cute to your gamer buddies about having to finish. I was very tempted to just walk by and turn the power off last night. It’d piss you off, but it’d make my point. You can’t complain about me funnelling off into my own little world when you do the exact same thing. The only difference is the fact I don’t bury it in something that becomes an addiction. I sit and wallow in it till it passes. Seriously, would it have been that much of a detriment to spend the morning with me in bed, snuggling? Or is that just a waste of time that cuts into your chore work and distracts you from the things that are your priorities?

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