Keys

The Semi-Imaginary One is back in town, and still has my keys.
I sorted with him mid-afternoon and he agreed to return then ASAP, after I lost my shit when he said it would be a few days.  I am feeling much less comfortable about his have access to my space than is fair or rational.  I know he isn't actually going to use them for no good, he barely used them when he had reason to.  I think the keys got more use from me checking they worked after I had them cut than they have had in the years he has had them.  Events have left me feeling very vulnerable.
I waited on tenterhooks for over six hours, pacing and making myself physically unwell with the stress of it.
It is now very late and, when I threatened to walk to his and get them, I was told I would get them tomorrow.

Not ideal.  It is going to be hard to sleep through the anxiety about the fact he has access.

And the fact I know I am being entirely irrational doesn't help.


Late night watching trash TV on demand is having me feeling attacked by Married At First Sight, with all the talking about how important honesty and telling people about your past.
I let the Semi-Imaginary One away with far too much telling me nothing, while I am pathologically honest.  It is like my broken brain can't help but share a pretty honest, and crazily anxious, version of every thought that ran through my head.
And he was secretive.  I thought he was just damaged and careful.
Seems I thought wrong.