End of story. If only it really was that might be ok but seeing as I have been unable to will myself out of being I guess it isn't the end of the story and I've got quite a few years left in which to be a dickhead.
Artboy just phoned. Seems he's been reading my blog, oh good, that's just ace. He wanted to know if I was ok. He wanted to apologise for being, at times, a shit partner. He said he guessed he didn't put in as much as I did and then when things got tough he ran away. Well der. As if I didn't know that already. As if I never noticed the way he brushed his hair from his forehead.
Hopefully he has cured himself of reading my blog by reading the list of reasons why he can be all shit all the time. But for fuck's sake I can't work it out. I would give everything I have to not miss him like I do. I would rip off my toes if it meant I never had to shed another tear over him but that is unlikely to happen. My toes are quite firmly attached.
He said he misses me too. Good. He pissed off in the middle of the night screaming and then said he had to draw a line under everything, including me. So I'm glad he misses me. I hope he feels like shit. I hope he curls into a ball of Heathcliff and beats himself over the head with a walking stick. I hope he crashes his jet into the Grose valley and drowns under boulders with broken legs. I hope he calls me next week like he said he was going to because when I hear his voice it feels like home.
Artboy just phoned. Seems he's been reading my blog, oh good, that's just ace. He wanted to know if I was ok. He wanted to apologise for being, at times, a shit partner. He said he guessed he didn't put in as much as I did and then when things got tough he ran away. Well der. As if I didn't know that already. As if I never noticed the way he brushed his hair from his forehead.
Hopefully he has cured himself of reading my blog by reading the list of reasons why he can be all shit all the time. But for fuck's sake I can't work it out. I would give everything I have to not miss him like I do. I would rip off my toes if it meant I never had to shed another tear over him but that is unlikely to happen. My toes are quite firmly attached.
He said he misses me too. Good. He pissed off in the middle of the night screaming and then said he had to draw a line under everything, including me. So I'm glad he misses me. I hope he feels like shit. I hope he curls into a ball of Heathcliff and beats himself over the head with a walking stick. I hope he crashes his jet into the Grose valley and drowns under boulders with broken legs. I hope he calls me next week like he said he was going to because when I hear his voice it feels like home.
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