You made me cry. But no, you're not off base.

He doesn't care anyway. He says he does, but he's just a ghost. He doesn't have much real emotion -- his brain never recovered from it's breakdown last year. He lives in the pseudo-reallity and has no comprehension of actions or true reality of consequence.

I want to run away, but I can't run far enough yet. I can get rid of the house in a couple weeks. Movers, cleaners, storage, freind to take me in, apartment already chosen. I have to tread water for a handful of months (get a short lease), get a chunk of money together, then I can go anywhere in the world. He's gone anyway. In more ways than physically. He's going to end up dead, despite my best efforts. This empty carcass of someone who once was...with all the blinding light that was in there so far away you can't even see it anymore. No better than a prescription junky. And I'm supposed to find a way live with that. Doesn't matter whether I have to see it or not, I'll know. I'll know what's not and what is and what was supposed to be. And it will eat me alive.

I kept his meds. But he doesn't have a car anyway so he can't drive himself into a highway wall (the truck is mine, so I have both vehicles). Some guy offered to buy the truck the other day when I wasn't home, I'm trying to get a hold of him. Boy would that save me a lot of hassle. I already shut down his phone and removed him from the car insurance (save myself money). Feeling guilt over my parents. But Hell, they're moving to Florida in two years, so who cares?

A lot of my mental state is going to hinge on next week when I see if AF shows (there was only once chance). Not that I would be that lucky. I don't think I'd even freaking tell him at this point. He doesn't deserve me. He was lucky to even have me and I was stupid to even let him. So, my brain will likely go into meltdown mode/high gear at the same time after the verdict comes down next week, and then I'll have to just go do it all and hope someday to disappear. I hate him.

__________________