We’re living in this house for 4 days now. Set up quite a bit. Still missing stuff. Our books are just piled up in one corner because we don’t have bookshelves yet. We only have one sofa and two tables. Our bed. A makeshift wardrobe. Of course we have a fridge, washing machine, cooker and a freezer. We are setting up broadband as well. Well, it is meant to be set up in two weeks. We won’t be able to buy anything else until we have jobs. I registered for an agency today, have to go back for an induction test on Friday and then probably have a job. But - it’s not the one I actually want. The other company I was hoping for called today while I registered to the other place. Calling them back tomorrow. Hope they ask for an interview then I can cancel the whole induction test on Friday (hopefully).
But today has been a very low day all together. And by low I mean… Really fucking low. Probably doesn’t help that I am reading a book about suicidal people at the moment. But them thoughts keep creeping up on me. All of them. Standing at this train station today? Fuck, it was hard. All those passing trains felt like an… opportunity? Missed chance? And I hate myself for thinking that way. Because… I’m supposed to be happy, god dammit. And then that fear of her leaving me for someone else. Because I’m like that. Because of those thoughts and those fucking low moments. And I wouldn’t even blame her for leaving me. I would leave myself if I was her. Then again, I wouldn’t even .. choose me to begin with. And all I do is keep pushing her away. And fucking things up. And ruining everything.
Hiding upstairs in our bedroom right now. I can hear her texting to someone. Hear her reading. And I feel awful because I pushed her away again. Not even giving an explanation. But I can’t talk about this. Not to her. Not face to face anyways…












