stringendo, poi subito rubato (a piacere)

After a month and change of galloping away from us, the horse seems to think he can park his horse’s ass right back in the stable. There’s one barn door I wish I had closed.

He’s been telling us to adjust to his new speed, that soon he would be gone even more, and for a time he was hardly ever home. M became Dad’s girlfriend, and I could say it without bitterness. He was making a life for himself. So were we. Imagine my shock when he decided to spend evenings and nights here again. I don’t understand. He hated spending time here, so he went out all the time. He said going on as before was making him sick. Why has he come back to… go on as before?

I heard him talking to M. I guess he has too many loose ends here to tie up, and now that we’ve put him on a budget (sleep here? Contribute here!) going out isn’t such a lark. Or else the NRE is wearing off. I’m a little tired right now and can’t quite figure it out. I don’t like him speaking that way about us behind our backs. I wish he’d tell us to our faces. If he doesn’t actually feel that way about us, then he’s lying to M, and he ought not to lie to her. He ought not to lie to any of us.

He does anyhow. That won’t change. Makes me some parts angry and some parts sad, just like the rest of this stupid situation. It’s almost better for me to be sad. If I’m sad, I’m not snapping at everyone who hasn’t hurt me. I’m sorry I’m so irritable lately, truly I am. I wouldn’t wish this on any of you, and I’m sorry for those of you who’ve dealt with it. Watching your parents divorce is hard when you’re grown, because you do understand what’s going on, and you know they should know better when they screw up. You know how “better” looks if you’re in a relationship, even.

I am performing “better” with Darling. Oh, he’s been such a rock. He’s more reliable, from the Caribbean on vacation, than my dad from the next room over. I don’t see myself leaving my beloved anytime soon. Darling man, if you are reading this, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Now to decide on supper. I can’t have Italian for the third night in a row. I ate a sandwich for lunch. Kee-rist, what have I got in the pantry?

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