I didn't kill my brother this weekend and I was home for 3 days. This is a new record, I feel as though there should be a white board on the wall boasting how many days it's been since the last accident.On the bright side, if you wanna call it that, I saw M last night and he seemed to be himself. If he doesn't want to discuss anything on a more meaningful level than "Hey, sally may," then neither do I.
He couldn't handle what I'd bring to the fight anyway. If he could handle that then all along he'd have been able to see how wonderful I am as a woman, how fucking well off he'd had it - sleeping with me when there was no committment - and overall, how lucky he was to have acquired a even this many entries having ANYTHING to do with him, and more importantly, how fortunate he was to have slept with me so many times and still have earned my sympathy for his situation.
But he doesn't want to discuss any of that. And that's cool.
Because, let's face it, it's not like he could tell me anything I don't know already.
