The flood of biblical proportion. 

That title was stolen from the headlines of Houston yesterday. That’s what we had. I was home, safe and comfortable with him. That’s what fate had planned I suppose. 

I was happy to share my space, my food and my company although I’m sure he would have been fine without my company but in my space with my food, and his tiny appled connection to the outside world. That’s why I have to not care anymore. Because it mattered to me that it was him sitting next to me. It doesn’t matter to him who’s next to him. 

I’m almost positive that I just sound like Charlie Browns teacher to him. I don’t even talk that much so I don’t understand. Most men would appreciate the fact that they don’t have to have these long boring conversations about nothing with a girl.

Just more proof that the comfort I feel around him doesn’t or shouldn’t amount to anything. My feelings are still there. His are not. The fact that it mattered that he was there to me but not vice versa means this isn’t going to get better and I have to leave. 

I kept getting texts from my friends and family in another city all showing proof that I’d, at least, be appreciated in body, mind and soul there… Not here. I’ve said many times that I wished things were different but you can’t make anyone do anything they obviously don’t want to. Do I wish I could have sat there, all day, yesterday with the same uncaring, obliviousness to another person as he did yesterday. Maybe but I was happy he was there. I’m not going to wish that away. 

Maybe my thoughts will change as the day goes on and people keep asking how I fared yesterday. All I do know is that I look forward to a long bath tonight. My mind seems exhausted, my heart is sad but my mood is decent. 

   
 

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