I hate when I get some coke and I'm like is this aspirin or some shit? Are you sure this is a ball? Fuck! But the real BS, I'm still tryin to get high. lol

As much as I know he loves me, he is so unaware (especially after 6 beers, 2 joints, and other goodies). I’m so allowing myself to love mySelf. I may be a little depressed, but I’m not sad in every sense (pun intended). I’ll be here for him, as long as it’s good for BOTH of us. He’s learning and changing.

The honeymoon’s over. The devil reared his ugly head today. Surely, this isn’t the first time that satan has shown himself, but this time is was different. At first, I was thinking to myself, my man has become Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Clearly, I was wrong. You see; that is an actual dichotomy – a juxtaposition of two opposing forces. So, in an unfortunate way, that borderline personality-type actually makes since. His splitting has no rhyme or reason.

To be continued. And he sniffs my coke!

Okay, if you want me to fight my father's case for me, I am more than happy to do it. He IS my father, and I am your class, quintessential good daughter -- a perfect daddy's little girl, actually. But, help me out here! Could you watch my SUN? I am not going to keep telling him to come back later, later, later, tomorrow, etc.! It makes me feel like shit to do that. He IS, without a doubt, my FIRST priority. Please, don't make me tell you that you're on your own.

Fuck, why am I sober?

Between the bf and the baby, I'll never get anything done today!

Why is it that I can get my behind out of bed to run to computer to research very important issues like the Jerry Springer show but won't finish my dissertation?

This is going to seem so hypocritical that I cannot not believe I am actually going to put these words on a page. You know; I know; by now, the world knows I’m coping with the impending loss of my father, early menopause, lagging in the diss, fear of failing miserably, loneliness, despair, anguish – hell, I’m a fucking Sartre novel right now. I will not dare proclaim that my means of coping is healthy or even effective, but it’s getting me by. I’ve pretty much decided that this is a precarious time; however, it too shall pass. So, I absorb my happiness vicariously, especially through the contentment of my Sun/son. I NEED for him to have proximate ideal happiness, because, as crazy as this sounds, his happiness seems to be all that I have left in me at this moment. There is no joking about disappointing him, broken promises, or fucking with him in any shape, form, or fashion! Now, is soooo not the time! My ailing father needs to understand; I’m am willing to subsist in this realm of wane-wax vacillating abyss of Cloud 9 feigning to be my life. However, he has not and will never become the emulation of my illusive façade of power and vanity. Just because he’s my offspring doesn’t mean he has to be my replica.

Oh, and if only my selfish, intentionally blind bf would leave my SHIT alone! If you don’t like it anyway, why scoop up the last of it. All you do is go to sleep anyway when you get off work. So, why do you need to use up my shit when I am not interested in NONE of your vices. When my shit is gone, you still have yours. How fair is that!

I must admit; I am not happy with my relationship right now.  I’m not sure if it’s me or him or us.  I’m going through a lot; so, that could be it.  I feel lonely and abandoned.