Monday 5 March 2018

Love, hate, love.

You told me I'm the only one
Sweet little angel you should have run
Some decidedly glarey, unceremonious cheese toast and the Devil has gone home at last. I think Lochlan took a day and a half to sober up and realized he had sold his soul and probably handed off mine on the weekend too and now he's done with all again, even though by early church time on Sunday morning they were shaking on their new grand plan to let the water flow under the Bridget, that what's yours is mine and mine is yours and time is too short not to love everyone the way everyone loves me.

I think Lochlan gave it a good try but if he has to be shitfaced to deal then he's going to go down a road I already went and dragged him back from once (or five times) and that's not going to happen again.

And Caleb is sober now so let's just say we'll have to live with him mean because he's on medications that shouldn't see him drinking because they react funny and he really went one for one with someone who can usually outdrink him and everyone else before and after him. That's a bad idea.

It was nice while it lasted though. I like it when they let their guards down. I like it when they're silly. When they get along. When things are good. But I'm a child waiting for approval, trying to fix things, trying to be the little peacemaker so no one is unhappy with me. I couldn't tell you no if I tried. Did I? Maybe I did. Maybe I just waited him out. Maybe I punished him. Maybe I tried to preserve myself.

Whatever way you spin it, things are different today. We left our March secrets in our quilts and our armour on the floor and we greet this new aftermath naked and brave.