Unhappy routine

It’s become my pattern over.. well, years… to stay up into the wee hours of the morning just so as not to have to lie next to DW expecting to experience anything resembling affection. It makes me sad. I don’t want to be up. Goodness knows I desperately need the sleep. It just hurts less to miss out on much of the useful part of a night’s sleep than it does to feel like a bother in my own bed. I have very seriously contemplated taking up refuge in Babykiddo’s room from now on. I just don’t like the signal that sends: that I have given up. I suppose I have given up… I gave up on thinking I can ever really get what I need from this marriage. But, I feel endlessly driven to try to at least do what she needs… and so it goes, on this night, and most others… that I mindlessly check and re-check the same posts on Facebook until I can no longer bear the weight of my eyelids.

I keep trying to find that thing that will be impressive enough to make her really think I’m wonderful, and express that to me. Tonight, I tried to get her settled on a digital piano. Surely, a multi-hundred dollar gizmo would make her love me! Just like the iPad did… oh, wait. I barely got a polite “thank you” for that.

I am an idiot.

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