My Hands Are Freezing

The entry-way looks nice. I have been painting most of the day.

Watching movies. Burning incense; candles.

I'm still in my PJ's.

I wonder what they are doing. Playing games, hockey, watching TV, goofing off or veggin' out. Whatever it is, I'm sure they are having fun.

I'm making a huge dinner. Not sure why. It's only me.

I suppose I will have lots of left overs.

Sometimes I wonder if things that I say on here hurts his feelings. I haven't written a whole lot about him but I have written about him at times. Part of me thinks the less I write the quicker the way I feel will go away.

Truth is, the more I talk about it, the better I feel. I guess the past 10 months, he never allowed me to be upset about things. I mean, he did but not without some kind of consequence.

I think about if he reads my blog but I realize that he has to have enough interest in me to care about what I think or what I write about. He's never really read this thing. Part of me wishes he would another part of me is OK that he doesn't. Maybe if he showed some interest in what I'm all about, I wouldn't feel like the last 3 years of my life was for nothing.

I just realized that I have paint in my hair. Like, a lot of paint.

Ugh. Seriously! That sucks.