The terrible T's

It feels like it’s been months of feast and famine with T.

We’re fighting. We’re not. We’re fighting again. We’re so in love it hurts.

It’s confusing to me. It must be confusing for T. I love him, but goshdarnit if he isn’t the one person that can hurt me the most. The worst bit? He’s not even really trying to hurt me.

We seem to have our shit back together now, but it’s really fucking scary to really see for the first time how bad it can get. How bad it can get in such a short amount of time. With so little effort. I guess the downside of generally not fighting a great deal is that when we fight really badly, it’s such a fucking spiritual shock to me that I don’t quite know how to process it. I just get shouty, then cry-ey and equal parts don’t-leave-me and get-the-fuck-outta-here-boy.

Phew. My life: The Rollercoaster. A new fucking novel.