(Who wants a Saturday morning crash course on Manichaeism? Not this girl. I get enough of it on a daily basis.
They let me turn on the exterior Christmas lights last evening. The crazy colourful midway ones I wouldn't let them take down, that span at least eight kilometres in length because absolutely everything is covered and you can see our point from space? Yeah.
Sorry (not sorry).
In other news, Caleb earned himself an icy shoulder by pointing out that things have shifted once again, and didn't I see it? First we've boarded up and demolished the concrete rooms in my brain and then we shut out the ghosts in favor of more room for the living. Things are improving. I was able to navigate this time of year without completely falling apart so let's move quickly through the stages here and go back to keeping the drama within the Collective relegated to who gets me on which night.
Which...honestly? Horrified me that he even went there.
Because I don't.
And just no.
Fuck off, Caleb. I used his name for effect. Formal. Distance. No beloved nicknames for you today, asshole. Because a) don't neatly wrap up your dismissal of someone I will love and miss forever, equally as if he still breathed and b) don't highlight my own deviant behavior as if it's a bonus or a treat for you. Don't gleefully benefit from my pain. Fuck you indeed.
And then true to form, I promptly came home and went to PJ's room since I didn't want to disturb Lochlan who is exhausted from being tense for the past while. PJ woke up easily, held the blankets up for me to crawl in and said No funny business, Bridge. I'm an old man and I can't afford to lose any more friends. And then he promptly pulled off all of my clothes.
