Slept a few hours, sobbing each time I was conscious. Woke up at 8, cried again, took some weed.
I don't feel well enough to go out today like we had planned so now I am the asshole who needs to cancel until I can pull myself together after his sudden display last night. I don't feel good. I was under the wishful fantasy that he'd be different sober. That he suddenly cared about someone other than himself. Again I am betrayed, by myself, and the phone and the door that somehow always welcomes him back after all his grand exits, because he always returns with a new urgent dilemma or a bruised face. He's asking too much.
As usual he failed to notice that others are in line hoping to take his place, and they've definitely crossed my mind. But they're all men, angry and dysfunctional, so what is the difference. Men give women nothing to look up to, nothing to respect, nothing to work with. We're left with our imaginations and fantasies to keep us fulfilled because men tend to do half the job, fuck everything up, and walk off while taking zero responsibility.
Now I need to grieve, yet again, like all the times before. Even when things are good with him, I feel like something is missing. I feel like this with most men, that their body is there, but there's no substance. I may as well have a stuffed animal who at least won't make me cry so much that I decided I don't enjoy sex anymore.
I don't have anything non depressing to write. Hopefully after a few days of suffering I'll re-learn how to be healthy again like I was without him. I wish men could be the heroes we were promised instead of the most fearful reactive beasts who just make everything harder for women.
8:33 a.m. - 2020-10-10