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I don’t even know how to put this into words. I don’t even know if I fucking care any more.

Tom just left, after showing up later than he said he would. Things got off to a great start. After I handed him his mail, we had this entertaining exchange. I may not know what to make of all this, but I can write dialog.

“Have you thought about getting a roommate?”
No, I don’t want a fucking roommate.
“Well then how are you going to be able to afford this? I can’t pay you for the six months.”
Oh, I’m sorry. You what? There you go again, changing the rules in the middle of the game again.
“I don’t have to give you anything. I can’t afford it. I need to get on with my life.”
So this is another broken promise? I guess we’ll add that to the list.
“I can do three months. When I get the insurance check, I’ll give all of that to you.”
OK, look. First you said 12 months. Then you got me down to 6. Now you’re saying 3? I knew I should’ve gotten this shit in writing.
“Well, you got everything. No one would’ve agreed to that.”
Listen, you told me to take everything. So I did. And now you’re going to bitch about it? I don’t think so.

He grabbed the phone bill and cable bill and said he’d pay those because he didn’t want me fucking up his credit. He actually said he was going to cancel them and make me sign up for shit again. What. The. Fuck. I said fuck that, I need a phone. And you’re not canceling shit; we can put stuff in my name. And I asked him why he had to be a dick about this. “I’m not trying to be a dick. You’re just bad with bills and I can’t have my credit get screwed again.” Oh, gee, like I wouldn’t pay for things I use? Thanks.

More rehashing the same points. He says he doesn’t want to be an asshole, even though he’s being one. I said I’d cancel my trip, then decided fuck it, no I won’t. I just won’t go for 2 weeks. I can’t afford to lose that much in wages since it will be unpaid leave.

He keeps saying I can’t afford to stay here, that I need a roommate or that I need to move. Why the fuck does he think I can’t do this? He said stuff about living paycheck-to-paycheck, and how I shouldn’t have to do that. Oh wow, now’s the time to be all fucking concerned for my well being. Jesus fuck.

There’s more to this than I’m writing. It’s boring. It’s the same stuff we end up rehashing. The bottom line is this: He’s a fucking zero. 0. That’s him. He doesn’t rate. I will waste no effort on him. He exists, but only because of what we used to have. I don’t give a fuck about him and her. They could both die. I don’t know that I’d care. I’m not wishing ill upon him, but god dammit. You keep breaking promises to me — and this isn’t little stuff. This is life-changing shit. Fuck that. I will not play that game. I will not fucking make the effort.

I’m done.