Some posts I hate writing – the ones that I have to peel back the layers and get to my deep-ceded insecurities, doubts and fears.

On September 2nd, I moved out. Into a single room in a house not far from my place with Dexter. It was a bare room, with a bed, dresser, closet and small bathroom with a shower. It was austere – nothing like was I was used to. The walls were dolefully plain, the bed was lumpy, the bathroom was lacking in so many ways, and it was exactly what I needed. No distractions. Just me and my thoughts.

“I hope I learn something from this. It just feels strange and lonely. But I control the loneliness. And I won’t allow it to be a negative.

The question is…do I want to spend the rest of my life with Dexter? I need to use this time wisely…

Starvation feel good. Feels like control. It’s addictive. Like alcohol. Or Sex. I want to starve myself until I can’t feel anything.

My first night, in my new digs, and I’m proud of myself. It’s not easy. But it’s not unbearable. It feels like a journey. I hope at the end of the month I’ll have gained the clarity and perspective I’m looking for.

There was something when I met Dexter that drew me to him and that’s why I pursued like I did. In spite of his obnoxious, drunk, and cocky behavior. And his less than perfect body, with no hair on the top of his head and wrinkles that reveal a not so easy life. He’s got this amazing heart. I just feel like his heart isn’t in me.

I want him to care enough to fight for me. Maybe that’s my answer. Why do I always feel like he just tolerates me? Read the signs. He’s been giving them to you.

My first broken-heart?”