*sigh*
so i’m home, right. having an otherwise lazy and wonderful sunday, ya know. just trying to keep my sanity and generally being relaxed and calm and things like that. ya know. because i’ve had a long week. amongst other things.
and i managed to pack a whole box worth of stuff. all of my cds, dvds, movies and a few other random things are all packed up and boxed and taped and ready to go to the new apartment — once its final, mind you. ya know. yay for that. i guess. i hate packing. i hate moving.
i hate this.
but i was having a good day, damnit. i was having one hell of a good day. a really fantastic day. i was relaxed, i got plenty of sleep, i managed to keep down some food. i talked to kim. i talked to my daddy & my mom & nickers…
but around 7 pm it just got…worse.
john came home.
i haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since thursday. i …
oh god. he came in and was all hungry and all about ordering chinese food and blah blah blah ‘i’m always in the mood for chinese’ he says. YEAH HE IS. fucker. god…ick. so i talked to kim for a while as john was here, being you know…new john, the fucktard.
and then the food arrived and he proceeds to tell me all about his new girlfriend and how much fun he’s been having these past few days and how he hasn’t changed his clothes in forever cuz he’s been staying with god knows who and what his plans for tonight are and blah blah blah and all i say is ‘that’s nice.’
that’s fucking nice.
he’s going out with his girlfriend and everyone else tonight. that’s nice. graham and matt might make an appearance. that’s nice. he’s getting a new tattoo. that’s fucking nice. way to fucking go. what in the hell took over his mind that makes him think that i give a flying rat’s ass? honestly? part of me misses him so much that it physically aches to see him. to hear his voice. to look at him. and he’s not mine. i’m not his. not anymore.
and it’s fucking killing me.
just when i think it can’t hurt anymore, all of a sudden it does. talking to him, hearing all of the shit that he’s saying is basically like he just walked up to a wound that’s just starting to scab, still kinda bloody and sore…and ripped the fucking scab off and dug around inside and poured salt in it.
FUCK
i thought i was getting better. but the bastard made me cry again. that piece of shit.
