11:00 p.m. - 2010-10-31
skin and bones.
I havent talked to Kris about it since, um, before Fina was born I think.. my memories have her as v. preggo, but my memories are fucked..
anyway, It is a city, thats like four hours away, and it starts with a B... Belleville? lemme google it... k i think its belleville.. It's somewhere around there tho, I recognized the city name.. and we talked about how it would be impossible to drive for a visit in one day..
I dont like thinking about it so i havent asked kris about it again.. i will have to soon tho, because Im starting to obsess about it.. Im also pulling away from her pretty well, which is a sort of good thing, if they are moving, and a bad thing if they are not... cuz we know how terrible I am on the phone, and she has four kids, and I can't make the trip for the overnight hang out until Julianne ois comfortable with a sleep over and by then, Dorian wont be able to sleep anywhere anymore... so yeah. I'll never see her again.
This was actually part of my ahem, nightly cry. Im still feeling wrecked about 'not having a best friend'. I just spend too much goddamned time alone, or in the presence of small children that make me mental. I start talking to myself, or talking to Juli like she's older.. BAD fucking thing, right there. I repeat to myself she is FOUR YEARS OLD, four. count'em.
I tried to invite mom over, and offered her tea and everything when she came. I thought maybe after I got the kids in bed we could talk.. but she left before I got Julianne in bed. so much for that idea.
And Im crying again. mother fucker. I wish I could take myself by the scruff and just SHAKESHAKESHAKE..
Im such an idiot.
You know what my worst fear is, right now? That this is it. That this is all I will be for the rest of my life...
Im too fucked up to get involved with anyone else, and I hate myself too much to trust anyone who would say that I'm not. And Im not just talking about a dad for my kids. Im talking about friends too.
I think, my longterm plan for the money that will be coming in next spring (depending on how long the FRO takes) should involve a doctor with a pad of paper, a scratchy pen and a goddamn couch for me to lie on.
Because really, either I belong in a psych ward or I don't. And I can't keep running from that. It catches up with me in the middle of the night. Or, when Im doing the fucking dishes..
