Stupid angst continued.
Last night Matt flopped at the desk for an hour, head on keyboard. The idea of visiting Cairo with Rain and I had not cheered him, not had killing Spirals enthused him. He went to go to sleep in the other room. I followed to ask why. There followed what was technically a conversation although it was full of so much silence and long pauses Pinter would be in rapture.
Matt does not want me to go to the Oast because it is bad for me and he wishes he'd been able to help my career. He does however want space and time with which to attempt to sort himself out with. So he is continuing to sleep in the spare room and I am pretending not to be here.
Neurons are deeply unhappy because I cannot believe that Matt will want me around when he's sorted his head-space out. I do not have money and I do not have a career; I'm a wastrel and an uninteresting one at that. Since he currently has a definite problem with all of that and it's unlikely to change in the near future I don't think he will want me making the place look untidy in his new world order. I think one of the main reasons he hasn't told me to leave yet is because he will feel guilt at me having nowhere else to go but the Oast and being banished from London.
I don't want to leave. I want Matt to be happy and (if possible please) for that to include me being happy with Matt.
But I cannot sensibly believe he'll want me back. Not after sleeping in the other room and bolting if I get within one foot of him. I don't think I've touched Matt in over a week, possibly two. I don't know if that kinda thing can be turned around. Can it?
I have a sword of Damocles ready to stab me in the heart: I can feel the tip of it scratching the surface of my skin and I'm just waiting for Matt to cut the cord so it falls and finishes what its started.
Matt is off to Wales tomorrow night. He's back on sunday.
If things are no better by monday morning I will probably have to go to the Oast.
And after that I don't imagine I will return.
There are many *many* ways in which this fact is deeply fucking depressing.
And I don't feel at this moment there's a thing I can do about it.
Matt does not want me to go to the Oast because it is bad for me and he wishes he'd been able to help my career. He does however want space and time with which to attempt to sort himself out with. So he is continuing to sleep in the spare room and I am pretending not to be here.
Neurons are deeply unhappy because I cannot believe that Matt will want me around when he's sorted his head-space out. I do not have money and I do not have a career; I'm a wastrel and an uninteresting one at that. Since he currently has a definite problem with all of that and it's unlikely to change in the near future I don't think he will want me making the place look untidy in his new world order. I think one of the main reasons he hasn't told me to leave yet is because he will feel guilt at me having nowhere else to go but the Oast and being banished from London.
I don't want to leave. I want Matt to be happy and (if possible please) for that to include me being happy with Matt.
But I cannot sensibly believe he'll want me back. Not after sleeping in the other room and bolting if I get within one foot of him. I don't think I've touched Matt in over a week, possibly two. I don't know if that kinda thing can be turned around. Can it?
I have a sword of Damocles ready to stab me in the heart: I can feel the tip of it scratching the surface of my skin and I'm just waiting for Matt to cut the cord so it falls and finishes what its started.
Matt is off to Wales tomorrow night. He's back on sunday.
If things are no better by monday morning I will probably have to go to the Oast.
And after that I don't imagine I will return.
There are many *many* ways in which this fact is deeply fucking depressing.
And I don't feel at this moment there's a thing I can do about it.