addict

i live home again. it feels like it. it's nice. it would be fine to live there alone. i do need to put locks though on the window and the bedroom door and the front door a big chain. because i thought about it last night: the handyman drinks too much, likes me a lot, lives around the corner, has a key to my apartment. so why do i feel so safe there? i don't even have curtains and i sleep in my underwear. i live in a low-class urban neighborhood. i live alone for the first time in 26 years. last year, i lived in a house in the suburbs with my husband around the corner from my parent's house where i lived my whole live. and never felt safe. but i couldn't drive on the interstate either then. mental captivity?

so, i really do need to buy that sofa now. when you actually live there, you need things. and i had my first company. well, not really first, because my boyfriend has been there and my sister and her girlfriend. anyway, i had company. my sister. she's heartbroken so we got her a tattoo and then got really nice and shit-faced together. reminded me of when we were young. bonding over alcohol, i guess that's how you do it in my family. i'm just glad i don't have to be smashed anymore to enjoy sex. but that's another story...

i could kill melissa, because she doesn't deserve my sister anyway and when you are lucky enough to have something you don't deserve should at the least be able to realize how damn lucky you are. i hate broken hearts, but we had a surprisingly nice visit, especially considering, and maybe she will come back. maybe i will be there. at least every other weekend i will be there. and i think that's good for me. it would be fine i could still see him. come over for an hour or two, watch him play with the kids, have lunch or something, then go home and go to sleep. that would be nice, i don't care about not sleeping over. it's just the total break that i feel like i'm having withdrawals. like drug users, when they quit they still need a little something to help them live.