Jan 20, 2009 13:11
I ran out of Melatonin. I ran out of Trytophan. I ran out of everything that puts me to sleep. I don't have any valerian root. I don't have anything to chew on, swallow, drink, or inject to make myself fall asleep. So insomnia is taking me over these days.
Each day has become somewhat of a haze between drugging myself to sleep to waking up to Billy going to work to ... oh wait...it's cleaning day today.
I clean so that he's put into the right mindset when he comes home. He comes home from work, sees that the floors and counters are clean, sees that the shoes are organized, the bed's made, the laundry is done, the candles are lit. Maybe dinner is ready. Maybe I haven't eaten all day. or I threw up what I did eat.
He doesn't realize just how much I resent him.
I love him. I care for him. He's generous, creative, handsome, loving, controlling and hypocritical.
He changes his shirt and I kiss his back, recoiling at the smell of sex on his skin. He's fucking that woman... wendy is her name...on his lunchbreak again. Fucking women on his lunchbreak... I run out of the room and wash my face and mouth in the bathroom. I get ready to go...
He takes me out to dinner and asks me why I seem so upset. He places his hand on my leg and kisses my hand "give me your paw" he says...
At dinner we sit next to each other and he rubs my back and tells me I can get whatever I want. and he whispers in my ear that he loves me and wants to know what's wrong.
and I just look at him and tell him that it's nothing. it's nothing.
I'm just losing my mind.
too much stress.
little things.
"you haven't been sleeping" he says.
I can't. I say.
too much on my mind.
I crack a smile and tell him that it has nothing to do with him. and I turn away.
We come home and he wants to hold me...he can seem I'm still upset. and he wants to know why. and I tell him again that it's nothing.
and I ask him to take a shower...because I can still smell her...
and he doesn't. he crawls under the covers and asks me to join him.
he cuddles me from behind, pushing his hips into mine. I can feel him getting harder. He pulls me in closer and he pulls my hair and kisses my neck. I start to cry. He reaches his hand for my face and doesn't realize he's getting a handful of tears as he moves down my cheek and down to my chest and over my shirt...then under my shirt...then lower...
and I ask myself if Pete is as ashamed of me now as I am of myself?
and I cry.
as he pushes even harder.
and I miss Pete now more than ever. As I grow to hate Billy. Because he's a liar. and a hypocrite. because he's not louie. and because he's not Pete.
and because I don't have the strength to tell him that I know what he's doing.
pete,
billy