Don't read this.

Communication is… whatever…. I don’t want to talk about it.

I feel like a horrible girlfriend. I don’t want to bring all the stress of work home. I don’t want to have to go to work every day for weeks on end without a single day devoted to you. I don’t want to constantly think of all the things I should be doing at home, laundry, dusting, dishes, planting herbs, hanging pictures, cleaning the 3rd floor. I definitely don’t want to think of all the personal projects I’m not doing, t-shirt quilt, baking, drawing Bubbles & Bicycles and all my other creative dreams. I want to get my nails done for May 11th. I know that life is moving too fast for me right now and I just want to jump off the train and sit for awhile. I need to re-center myself but there’s not time because I have to exercise and lose weight and make meals and pack my lunch and have clean clothes and work. Work is a struggle through incompetence to try to make it to a higher level. A higher level so I feel more comfortable with our finances and the idea of buying a house. A higher level so I’m valuable enough to get a month or two off for our baby and still have a job to come back to.

I know it was selfish of me to ask you to get out of bed for a half an hour to spend some time with me when it’s my fault that we don’t have time together anymore. I know it was selfish to go to the gym and not play racquetball with you. I know I’m spending time at another gym with my sister because it makes me happy to reconnect with her. I know that it makes you feel like I’m abandoning you. I know I was selfish to let Alex stay and Mary stay and invite James over and none of your friends have been over. I know you need my attention and my affection and you’re not getting enough of either.

I talk to you. I tell you how I’m feeling. Even when it’s not what you want to hear. I told you that I wish I’d had Sunday off to spend the whole day with you. I did not say “I don’t want to hang out at your parents for your mother’s birthday” or “my parents are better than yours.” I was just trying to let you know that I felt like I was living at a sprinting pace and I dreamed of quiet time with just you and me.

I envy you for making your own schedule and sleeping in and taking only jobs that you want and not dealing with office politics. I wish my life was more like that.

I felt silly that I missed your blog posts. I’ve been checking regularly for months and just as I’m complaining that you’re not talking to me, you’ve actually told me everything you’re thinking and told me not to read it.

Well don’t read this.

And especially this next part.

I still talk to him. As you know. Mostly he starts it by asking me what I’m doing and if I want to come out and help him pick out paint colors. It always ends with us rehashing the end of our relationship. It’s a repetitive interaction that gets more frustrating every time it happens. At the end of the exchange I abruptly stop texting and think “I’m never going to talk to him again.” But I do. And I even want to sit down with him and maybe have a beer. Why? Because I want to get him to admit that he did something wrong in the relationship. I want to hear him say that I’m not 100% responsible for the destruction. It’s another example of me being selfish. I want to hear him say that because it will help my guilt about our relationship. I want to move on from it knowing that it wasn’t all my fault.

Because I feel guilty. I feel guilty about everything I’ve written here and every way that I’m feeling right now. I feel guilty when I can’t be happy. When I can’t make you happy.