On the way home from a mediocre class I had the moment of panic when a little light blue old lady car passed me in the street only a few blocks from my flat, lest it be Shitlord's car. Which I then realised it was and that he was going to the gym.
Years of the bitterness about how his work and gym were both close to my flat but he still never made any effort to visit me have not gone away. So I got home full of stupid, impotent, rage.
The thinking about crying for stupid reasons yesterday reminded me how, with the exception of the first few days and the worst bit of the pneumonia, I have cried much less since the breakup than I did before hand. Who knew the solution to uncontrollable public crying was to get horribly betrayed......
No-one tell Simon I said this, but he was right. Shitlord was terrible for me and I should have got myself out of it years ago, when Simon started suggesting it to me.
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