Another Act...

...another show you play, realise you could not make your problems go away...

And yet the more I pretend I am coping, the more I discover that truly, I'm not. I guess I thought my feelings would gradually grow lesser. Erm... No!! Not in the slightest, in fact. Almost the opposite. In my head, I begin to compile a list of things I 'love' about him. Not 'like' That is worrying, yes??

* I love the way he looks in the morning, when his hair is a total mess and his eyes will only open halfway * I love the face he pulls when he puts his contact lenses in. That little 'pokey out tongue' face * I love that sometimes his eyes are green, and sometimes they are brown * I love that little tuft of hair halfway between his left shoulder blade and his spine * I love (to my own annoyance) when he pings my panties, or my bra sometimes... and he says 'ping' *

I could go on... about how I feel when he pulls me into bed... and other such things. But that's called Masochism. He's told me firmly where we stand. It's not that I don't know. It's more a case of my reluctance to accept it.

So I put on a face... and so I shall, for as long as I must...