We’re usually on the phone by now.
We’re not.
I’m surprisingly okay with this.
I mean, the me before would have been doing this just to get his attention.
Hell, I might even be doing this right now - trying to get his attention, that is. I keep glancing at my phone, secretly hoping he’d call and notice I’m gone.
But he’s not.
It’s 10:12pm, and we’re not on the phone.
We’re not on the phone.
It’s such a strange notion - it’s occurring right now.
I’m surprisingly okay with it.
I realize that I shouldn’t need him as much as I do.
I realize now that my act of not calling him right now is my way of proving to myself that I can survive a night without talking to him.
Without doing our regular good night ritual.
Sweet dreams.
Sleep tight.
Don’t let the bed bugs bite.
I’m not crying.
I’m not sad.
Maybe I really can go a night without him.
I called him earlier today needing to hear him say that I wasn’t a bother to him. I cried in that phone call. My voice cracked. He asked if I was okay, and he knew I wasn’t. I told him I was. He didn’t believe me, but I insisted.
We hung up.
I made myself okay.
It’s okay.
I can let him have his video game time without me interrupting.
He doesn’t need to be attached to me.
This is great.
I’m okay with this.
I’m okay with this.
It’s okay.
I don’t need to call him.
It’s okay, now.
