It's Been A Pretty Full On Eight Months

Sam is still not talking to me. No good morning message to wake up to, no chatty emails when I turn on my computer, no instant messaging.

Silence.

I guess, about now, I should be sending flowers, or chocolates, or even a funny message... but I'm not.

I'm just going to sit back and feel the change, feel what it is like to be without him. It's been a pretty full on eight months.

Of course, this could be exactly the wrong thing to do, I realise that. I've never been very good at conflict resolution in matters of the heart.

But, you know, I come back to... (to put it one way), I did one thing wrong and it's all over. I really need my relationships to be built on stronger ground than that.

Later...

I was going to send him roses to work; no card, just the flowers. But, by the time it occurred to me, it was too late in the day. So, I sent him a photo, that I took, of my red roses.

I should have sent the real thing, I know.

But, at least he has been talking to me since I did.

Later again...

Oh, of course, it's all because I smoked pot with Shane Friday night, the night before. But so did Sam. Give me strength! Now, apparently, I am lazy Christian fat arse.

No, it's because you were at me the moment we got up about the windows. And just because I didn't look like I wanted to do it, it didn't mean I wasn't going to. You cracked the shits and fled the house.