The things we do for our kids

During last nights arguement with Ian some really harsh things were said, I guess things were bound to blow up and I know we still haven’t sorted anything out or come to any real line which means an apocalyptic scale meltdown looms on the horizon.

One of the things was him leaving and going elsewhere, it would be so much better in the long run I know. But even if I kick him out, he works at Ocean Star so I’ll see him anyway and it will always be there that I made him leave…

… Most importantly, fysh ADORES him and he dotes on fysh. How can I ask him to leave when I know it will break my sons heart? He’s sort of been the dad fysh hasn’t had. I’d rather be the masochist and suffer in quite-ish silence and see my child happy than put my own happiness first. At the end of the day I know I’m good at this, this pretending that things are okay. Over the years of trying to fit into society I’ve perfected it. I can do this. Everything is fne. I am fine. My mantra for the past decade or so.


It’s easy to break a child, it’s difficult to fix an adult…
I’m already broken, it’s too late for me. But Fysh… Despite all odds he is here, he’s healthy and he’s a bloody adorable little brat. He deserves every drop of happiness.

My little vent, needed to get it out and seeing as we are back to our usual game of blissfull prentence of ignorance and I’m sure friends are starting to get tired of our little rollercoaster this is the best place to word it. Just wish that somehow, I don’t know. That somehow we could just figure this out once and for all. There’s something there, we’ve admitted it, but.  BUT is the problem.

Life really does enjoy keeping me on my toes that’s for damned sure. Just when I think I finally have the hang of the game it goes and changes the rules…



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