After work, I just took a long, hot shower and cried. Some days of this situation have been better than others, and this definitely fell into the “others” category. I stood below the shower head sobbing as I let the water run over me like an old, comfortable blanket, my fingers wrinkling up from the exposure. I felt particularly down and defeated today for no particular reason. My heart was hurting. Maybe it's because when I went downstairs into the basement to work out I found all of my things shoved to one side of it, and with the amount of stuff I have down there he had apparently been busy. I felt like he was sending me a message. What, was my presence making him uncomfortable? Good. And if he thinks that after 6 years of intermingled shit I'll just be out of his house in three weeks he's out of his goddamn mind. I hate him right now. I hate how he just gave up, just like he does with everything else. He's the kind of man that will throw a shirt away because it's missing a button, rather than grabbing a needle and thread. And so maybe it should not have come as much of a surprise when he did the same with me. But it hurt all the same.