I'm here and I don't feel like writing. Watch as this becomes a page and a half.
A lot of people were scared for me, needlessly. Never once did I say Jacob didn't have a temper and a bit of a streak of passionate...er..opinion on things. He does, but very rarely do I ever see it. He prefers to indulge in very quiet, smoldering anger with me that involves less talking and a lot of glaring. Or a lot of he-knows-better talking.
And then once every couple of years we have a knock-down dragged-out chase-Bridget-around-a-table-while-she-screams-and-he-hollers type of argument in which yes, we get remarkably out of control. Over nothing we can later identify intelligently. Sometimes we just do and then we're fine for a few more years. He would never ever hurt me. We both know that and at no time was I in any danger.
What made this argument so bad is that the space we would seek or pretend to seek from each other afterward has vanished, he knew I was on...argh..shaky psychological ground, and well, Caleb's presence.
Lord. Maybe the dumbest thing ever. And I wrote about it on Sunday at 6 am when I was still drunk and really freaked out still and you should read it.
In fact, I think I'll post it, maybe in a bit or tomorrow after I get some work done. I haven't done any since I proudly brought something to Jacob and he chucked it at me. It's a fascinating entry in that I sound like a positive fucking lunatic in it. You'll love it. You can laugh at me as I continue to make life-altering and infinitely poor choices.
And why in the hell am I trying to justify this to you? Fuck it, I'm not.
Stop tell me where you going
Maybe the one you love isn't there
You're going under
But you're over it all so you don't care about all that I had to see
Watch you wait until you come around
