chicken

He brought home chicken.

I texted him and asked him to bring home chicken.

So he brought home chicken.

Chick-fil-a.

I wanted Zaxby’s.

No, I didn’t text “Zaxby’s.”  I texted “chicken.”

My mistake.

But he always brings home Zaxby’s.  (Well, except for the time he brought home steak and said, “I didn’t know if you would like this….”  So why did he bring it home when he thought I might not like it?)

I like Zaxby’s.  It tastes good.  There are ten pieces – five for me, five for my daughter.

But tonight the Chick-fil-a was only three pieces in a box (he did bring two boxes, at least) and it didn’t taste very good to me.  My apologies to Chick-fil-a and those who like Chick-fil-a.  I didn’t eat it.

I went into the bathroom and sat on the floor in the dark and cried.

And cried.

And cried.

I feel so crazy.   I don’t want to be crazy.  I want to be sane and rational.

Maybe part of it is  hormonal.

Maybe part of it is my intestines.  I have issues with my intestines and that often affects my emotions.

What ever the cause, I wanted to die.

I can’t keep doing this and I haven’t found my way out yet.  I am so stuck, so screwed up.

Finally, I went to get some water to drink and he asked me what was bothering me.

I told him that I had wanted Zaxby’s.  He said he didn’t know it mattered.

He said he would go get Zaxby’s.

I told him I didn’t want it.  I feel sick.  I want to throw up.  I don’t want to eat anything.

He asked me why it was so hard for me to get along with him or something like that.  (I can’t even remember what he asked me and it was only a few minutes ago.)

I told him it was because I was a terrible person.  That was the answer.

I’m going to sleep in the living room tonight.  I’ve slept in the living room for most of the past week.

I want this all to be over.  I’m trying not to think about killing myself because of my daughters.

But I want this to be all over.