Cold Feet

It could be that the recent shit is just cold feet, probably on we’re both duffering a little bit from freezing extremities. When you consider it, it really is a huge commitment. Both financially and in terms of relationships. Buying a house. Buying a home. It’s a thirty year term. You get less for murder, isn’t that the saying?

cold-feet I think that right up until this point I have taken things are temporary. I could leave at any time. Last night when she said ‘get out my house’ I wasn’t bothered, because I realised I could. I could just simply fuck off. I have a couple of places to go, and I have a house too that I can reclaim in a couple of months. I don’t have to be here. Sometimes, admittedly, I don’t want to be here. So why am I here? Because it’s easy? Because I love her less and therefore control this relationship? Is that what this is all about? Control? What the shit am I so scared of? What do I think would happen if I walked out? Would I make it? Could I make it?

When I moved in here in July, I didn’t even unpack my stuff. It sat in boxes in the back room with my computer, and now sits in the garage ready to move to the new house at a moment’s notice. My packing, my things, were packed up and ready to go within an hour. That is temporary. This is not my home. Tom and I both call where I sleep, ‘Mammy’s room’.

And the sad fact is that I am comfortable with the status quo. I don’t have any issues with my lack of permanence here. It has suited me. Perhaps that speaks volumes about my commitment to this relationship. Happy it doesn’t mean much, because that way it’s easier to dispose of. Is this why I don’t form close relationships? Does this, as most things, hark back to my relationship with my father?

Man, this is so fucked up. We’ve not talked about last night. We’ve not really talked. Once again she is in bed, and I have come downstairs out the way. I’m tired but I don’t want to go to bed. I have a disciplinary at work tomorrow (probably come to nothing) and should be resting, but my head is abuzz with the bollocks I’m contending with and I can’t even contemplate sleep.

It’s the fear. I am scared to let go because I fear I will be making a mistake. There can be no going back this time. Better the devil you know and all that. But time is short. Each day that passes is a day that I could be spending being really happy.


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