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.

Memories

M has gone again, and I find myself going over the last time we were together over and over in my head.

T has been unkind to me these last few days, and whilst I don't actually think he's cross with me, he's brought me to tears a couple of times and I tired of his mood. My time with M is a happy escape from that, and remembering it gives me solace and bittersweet pleasure. I wonder if T has picked up on that.

The more I think of Wednesday the less I can remember, which completely sucks but is perhaps my brain's way of forcing me not to dwell. Hopefully I shall see M soon!

He's becoming quite dear to me.