It has gotten to the point that my feelings for him are dead. I don't know if this is detachment, or if I've just been worn down, but I feel numb.
I don't care if he goes or if he stays. Well, that is not entirely true. I fantasize about packing up all the crap I don't want and sending it with him and redecorating.
Now, he says he can't eat, that his appetite is gone--again. Is it depression? I don't know. He's a mess. That I know.
I think I might have slept 4 hours last night. I can't believe I made it through work today. I'm going home and take my dog for a walk.
Hugs, Sun
"Tell me what you plan to do with your one wild and precious life." Mary Oliver
