This morning I had bad dreams. Silly really, the situation had no resemblance to my life, and I'm not sure it actually meant anything at all. But you wake up and want to cry.
And you can't shake that feeling off. I've been veging on the couch, reading blogs, looking at Facebook, and trying not to cry. And he's brought me tea, toast, potato salad, and now a cupcake. Played with the dog and been silly. I've laughed at his jokes, while tears run out of my eyes. I can't stop them.
And I worry. That I'm too hard to live with. That'll he'll get sick of it. That he'll say (just like the last one did) "I don't like living with a sad sack."
So I try and hold it in.
And I worry.