Maybe, maybe not.

Am angry. Cabin fever, maybe. Maybe not. Am tired of the inconsideration and selfishness. The indecisiveness is driving me crazy. The communication even more so. It’s not regular but regular enough to make me want to just give up. Maybe the hormones talking. Maybe not.

Maybe it’s a blessing that we haven’t gotten to that stage yet. Being at that stage may complicate things. Because there will be no change and I will either explode or drift away, sooner or later. Maybe things don’t change and I should just move the hell on.

As you’ve always said, I am a child. Maybe that’s why I can’t live with another child. Major clashes. One has to give in and maybe it shouldn’t always be me.

Maybe I need real security, not just sweet comforting words by a teenager. Decisions to be made and me being informed properly. Not trying to guess all the fucking time and be worried about whether a simple thing has been done? Whether I would have to be the one to have to step in and clear the dirty mess, again. At the least, answer a simple question like a normal person.

Maybe I was brought up by a father who has never, not for even one second got me worried. Dad is always there. Dad always makes sure everything is taken care of and we don’t have to worry about anything. Dad never has to be reminded for the simplest most mundane task. Dad always sticks to the plan and never inconvenient his friends or anyone in the family. Dad always have an answer, yes or no, never “dunno” or worse, “what?”. Maybe it’s not fair to compare with my Dad.

Maybe that’s why it’s still so nice and fun, because things were never serious to begin with. Maybe my patience is running out. Maybe the cute act is not working anymore. Maybe I’m not getting enough sleep. Maybe I’m stressed from work and I don’t need all this additional crap. Maybe the problem is you. Maybe not.