Bastille

We pretend that we're okay. Strike that. You pretend that we are okay. I am grey grey packing rocking. I'm not really packing. I'm trying to unpack. This Epiphany I had last night? It's related to love. You tell me that you love me but it's differently than how you love your daughter. This in response to me telling you that why I've been so upset, angry, this past week is because I have seen now how you treat someone you truly love. You have not been treating me this way. I am jealous. But you don't think you should love me the same way as you love your daughter. I guess you think the only way you should love me is in Eros. But that is just I don't know, 2 restricted. It's not enough. I want a love that is agape and Eros combined and I know that's what I have been trying to give you.

But you couldn't talk about it anymore. You asked me to stop talking about it. So I have. But I did not want to talk about anything else, so I basically am not talking to you. Although we did discuss Portland, how when the foreign powers left, protests were peaceful. Amazing what can happen if you don't go into something offensively. How defense can look like offense. How defense becomes offense when the power is greater and used against you. I frankly don't know if I'm using my love against you or you're using my love against me. That's how fucked I am.

I'm an addict. I guess I'm Addicted To Love. Maybe addicted to you as the object of that love. But I'm trying to imagine life without you, tears come to my eyes. I don't let them fall. Maybe because you haven't really left yet. You are still here physically, but mentally I just really am not sure. However I suspect you are gone. And I'm not real sure I want the kind of love that you provide. Still unpacking.