I hate not being a person that can function.
I never really have, but often with the power of my space I could lure others here and thereby pretend I was a person people could like.
But really, they don't. And I can see why. I'm the kind of person that pitches a fit and throws things when hhe leaves me again, just like I knew he would. That makes me a moron. Who likes morons? Instead they always end up liking that I live a mile into the woods by myself, and yes we can spend all day shooting guns and having a fire and drinking. "OOOh Kate, I love it here, can I build a house..."
In any event it doesn't really matter. I belong cooped up and lonely, and I think maybe if I can shake off that beautiful feeling of being alive in his arms I could go back to being happy enough this way.
Sure, sure, "winners take chances", but somehow whenever I take the chance, I always lose. So maybe somewhere out there there are people taking chances and winning, but over here it's fall-flat-on-your-face-alone-and-crying-one-more-time-in-the-sand every single go.
On the plus side all this alcohol and bad feelings have kept me mostly out of the ole feed-bag and now that my lovely retained water weight is going away I can swim around in my pants. Small comfort, but a comfort none the less.
