And I've lost the battle again

I guess it never really was mine to win, right? Her freedom was always a double edged sword. Easier for me, easier for everyone else. I'm stupid for thinking anything else. I guess it's back to thanking my lucky stars I even held her attention for so long. Because it's probably the beginning of the end countdown again, just you wait and see.

Ah crap gosh darn it

I'm doing the thing, the thing where I hit on her without trying because gosh darn gee willickers she makes my kokoro go doki doki. And not in a 'I wanna touch her hot damn that chick is sexy' kind of way, more like a 'Oh gosh golly her smile makes my knees weak can we cuddle and have sleepy spooning times now' kind of way.
I'm gonna make her Sherlock wallpaper shoes, when I have the money. I really hope she likes them.
Look at me, getting all giddy and shit. It's kind of ridiculous, seeing as just a few hours ago I was contemplating killing myself for making her cry. I'm such a slimeball. A worthless piece of shit. But maybe if I can squeeze out some good things before I kill myself, she'll forgive me for hurting her.
On another note, I really think I am asexual. The fact that I've never actively wanted to have sex, I've merely been curious about it, and the fact that I'm not able to touch myself kind of cement that thought into place. I honestly don't want to be asexual though. I'm terrified of what that means. It probably means I'll live alone with my sixty cats, if I ever make it that far.
You know what I want the future to look like? I want the future to be her coming home to our house or apartment, and laying down on the sofa, kicking off her shoes. I'll have gotten home a little earlier, and I'll come out and rub her shoulders and back, rub her neck, and listen to what went wrong that day. We'll eat a little dinner, if I feel like cooking, and then she'll go shower while I wait for her to get out. She'll come out, wearing her pjs, towel on her head, and I'll come stand on my tippy toes to smooch her nose, and take the towel off of her hair. I'll smooch her forehead and nuzzle her nose, and hug her super tight. She'll smile at me, and tell me to go take my shower. I'll turn and smile and head for the shower, clothes in hand, and she'll smack my butt. Once I'm done, and she's blow dried her hair, we'll either snuggle on the couch watching some tv show, or go curl up in bed and maybe read or something. And then we'll mutually look at each other, put down whatever we're doing, turn off the bedside lamp, and curl up to sleep. My nose pressed into her spine, my hand resting on her thigh as our breathing forms a sort of rhythm, and we fall asleep.

Amusing

I find it so amusing now that I've thrown it back in my mother's face that I'm getting a job, she's giving me all these alternatives to jobs. Because I've put it in her face that I don't care about her shitty little waste of time 'vacation' that she wants to go on. She doesn't grasp the concept of it's not a vacation for me unless I don't have to see her face or deal with her drama. My kinds of vacations are the ones that don't have her involved. And if she's gonna get all pissy because I don't wanna play her game anymore, well, she can suck it up. She told me I could either drive my car or not have a job. I chose getting a job and keeping my car, and if she's regretting giving me that choice, that's her own damn fault. If I don't get to go on vacations with friends because of her, I'm sure as hell not going to take off time to spend a week in her presence when I could be getting paid to not have to see her ugly little rat face. Seriously. That's what a job is to me. Getting paid not to be home dealing with her bullshit. Because man oh man, am I sick and tired of her. I cannot wait until I never have to see her face again or deal with her little drama series that she constantly creates within her own life. The next two years cannot pass fast enough.

Why do I even effort?

Like, I've spent so much time making it easier for her to pack, and she's fucking putting it off to the last minute. Like. Seriously. If you know where something is, GO FUCKING GRAB IT. It's not that bloody hard. Got laundry that you need? Bring it with you. Put it in a fucking bag. Toiletries? Pack them, and then take them out and use them when you need to in the morning. Cosplay things I fucking know where they are? Why the hell can't you pack them already, you worthless little shit. I made you a list. You made your own goddamn list. It isn't this fucking hard to pack your fucking bag, and you know what still isn't fucking done? Your. Bag. Because you're probably talking to whoever you won't get to talk to for hours on end at night on your dumbass tinychats or whatever, and you're probably playing animal crossing or who the hell knows, all I know is you aren't getting shit done, and it would have taken me a half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes to do all of this. But no. No, nothing can ever be expected to be done if you're doing it. God forbid you actually work on something important. So sorry that I'm not gonna pity you when you're freaking out at the last minute about packing because guess what. I told you to start packing yesterday. My sympathy? Gone.