Throwing a Pity Party

I feel stupid right now.  I don’t know why the fact that he won’t be coming out to see me makes me upset enough to bite back tears over the phone.  He knew something was wrong; asked me repeatedly about it in fact, and I lied about it.  He sounded so worried about me, I couldn’t help but hide it from him.  I knew that if he thought it would truly make my  day that much better, my week that much better, to have him come out and see me, he would’ve done it.  And he was tired and done driving, and I didn’t want him to get in an accident trying to come out to see his stupid, whiny girlfriend. 

I don’t even know right now.  He’s had a long day, a long week, and I’m only making it worse asking him to come out to where I am for the last part of the evening.  And now he’s worried about me, and he knows there’s something wrong and that wasn’t what I intended at all.  Goddamn it.  He offered to talk via some kind of Internet Messenger tonight, but I have no plans to, so I lied about that too.  I just . . . can’t tonight.  If I do, he’ll be asking me if I’m all right, how am I doing, and I’ll have to lie more.  I’d rather tell one than many. 

But I hate this.  I hate this separation.  I hate knowing that I have two more weekends with him before school’s out for the summer, then one in which he’ll be in my home city for an event, before I don’t see him much at all until August when school starts back up.  I love him, and I want to spend as much time with him as I can.  And yet, I’m petrified of making it too clear, because if I could monopolize more of his time, I would, and I’m trying SO DAMN HARD not to do that, you have no idea.  
All right, pity party done.  Sorry guys.  Feel free to skip over this if you choose.  It probably won’t be as big a deal in the morning, but right now it hurts.   


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