The moving


Just a seven. Which I don't really mind.

And there's a reason why I didn't ask about that seven. I mean, she was asking me. "Any questions? Any violent reactions?" And I didn't.

Okay. So I didn't really think about asking about that seven until when it was all over. The first thing that came to mind was, "I deserved it." No attempt to pass on the blame. No attempt to take the blame either. Just a simple "I deserved it" and nothing more.

But the more I think about it, I go, "why didn't you ask?" Because that was the confrontation I was looking for. There it was. A chance for me to ask about why things went downhill without me doing anything about it. Until now, my position is simple: "it's not my fault." It still isn't.

It's just a seven.

And where almost everything else is a twenty or a ten, a seven is better than a six, and definitely better than a four, which makes the situation absolutely hopeless. Not that I have any hope that it will get better. Not when you see it go, "he wants to stay because" of many other reasons that you didn't really write about.

When all you can do is think of stuff you want to push out of your head, you definitely deserve a seven.

And your responses...

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