August 8, 2004
Sucker Punch
So I'm selfish.
If I were to take it upon myself to make a list of my faults, checking them off one by one, like some sort of morbid grocery list, I'd certainly be mad by the end of it.
You know, I dislike other people for the same things I dislike about myself. I almost can't bear to be in the company of vanity, to be friends with self-righteousness, to mingle amidst envy, self-pity, or occasional mean-spirited-ness.
I want to be with Mike tonight, I want him to want to be with me. I wish I could just admit that, to him, so he'd know, even if he didn't act upon it.
I want him to enjoy himself when he is away from me, but at heart, I want him to rather want to enjoy himself with me, and only me. Or mostly me.
Or me with others?
I wasn't invited. Am I hurt more by this lack of invitation, or his seeming non concern for its abscence?
I just want him to come home, and quick. The sounds of machinery, the laundry, the computer, the dishwasher, are not enough, not at night, not with a double-bed prospective of one occupant (me).
Not when he's "probably" going to stay in Louisville tonight. He says it, and he means certainly, but he humors me, or doesn't.
I'll hang on the improbable thread. I've made a life of it.
astera at 1:48 a.m.