what the fuck
2003-04-16, 2:46 p.m.

What is the point of a journal? For the past few weeks I've documented our fights, and my reactions, I've even praised myself...but I was just fooling myself. I was brimming with anger and frustration and writing about it, but not doing what I was supposed to be doing, and that's talking to MyLove about it. Why??? Am I that stupid? Am I that relationship handicapped? What the hell?

Last night after we had sex, or I should say, after I made love to her and then she said "ouch" and acted as if I'd just torn her insides out....I got mad. She got up, got dressed and laid down like she was going to go to sleep. Now, to her credit, she did ask me how I felt, and I said I was tired. But that didn't mean I was too tired for her to reciprocate! But she took it that way and I got pissed.

We ended up fighting until past midnight. Suddenly all these things kept coming out of my mouth. I found myself telling her that she has seemed distant and unaffectionate with me, and that she doesn't seem happy with me, and that we've not been more than just roommates, and on and on....I just had a meltdown. During which I told her we should just be friends and roommates, I even made up the guest bed and crawled in it. But as I laid there in the dark sobbing, the only thing I wanted was for her to come to me, take me in her arms and tell me she loves me....and she did!!! She really did. She got up and came in the room and asked me what I wanted. And I said, I just want you to hold me and she did, she didn't hesistate, she crawled in bed with me, held me in her arms and told me she loves me and that everything would be okay....and I sobbed. I cried so hard, and it made me remember how very much I love her. Not that I forgot...cause I never forget, but it helped.

Today we've talked on the phone a few times, we've talked about how we need to be talking more. So that things don't get to that point again. We talked about the possiblity of therapy, right now the cost is a deterrant and we both feel that if we just keep talking we can get through it ourselves.

So why then did I pour out my feelings to my journal, and then bottle them up with her? And why did I think that wouldn't be a problem? And the scariest question of all? Why didn't I realize that I was doing this until too late? Does some alien take over my body and tell me to keep my mouth shut and then erase my memory of that? What the fuck?

Oh and in the interest of being a good social activist, I want to let anyone who might actually be reading this journal know that Jenne is doing a fundraising thing for breast cancer research. I'm trying to scrape up some money to send her...you should too!

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