I'm back and earlier than expected.
Alas, it's started. The sadness. The frustration. I feel angry and I feel bitter.
Also, He's proposing to me at Christmas. I haven't decided if I'm going to say Yes or No, yet. I've known for well over a month that he was going to propose. I wasn't sure when exactly, but he kind of let it slip at breakfast this morning. Yuck.
I'll probably say yes in the moment. I don't really want to. Well, I want to, but I'm not sure about it all. We're just going to end up divorced anyway. Girls always have this picture in their head of how they want to be proposed to.
Personally, I want it to be a huge production. I want it to be disgustingly romantic and beautiful and meaningful, maybe even in public so he can profess his undying love for me while strangers witness his spectacle. I him to write me a love song, or spray it on a billboard, or just anything big and awesome!
I doubt I'll get what I want.
But he better not propose in a fucking car or the dirty apartment. I'll be pissed.
I want stars and flowers and music and candles and backup dancers. Sigh. Wishful thinking.
I am so fucking pessimistic. I am the most bitter person I know. Most girls would be crying with joy over the fact that their boyfriend wants to propose. Here I am picking it all apart, complaining, sounding like a huge ungrateful bitch, which I'm sure I am. It's hard to be happy when you're not a happy person.
This Christmas will be my most fake one yet.