I cried today in front of *B*. I think it's only the second time I've done that in as many years, the first when I found out my parents were getting a divorce. I didn't let all out, but it was nice to expend some of the pent up sadness and frustration. I miss our life. I miss our grown-up-ness and coming home to the cat, days of candlelight, movies on the couch. It feels like we'll never get that back. There's been a lot of stress in this house lately. Personality clashes, grumpiness, the strain of new people interrupting a routine. It literally makes me cringe.
I started reading White Oleander by Janet Fitch to get away from everyone. I found myself surprised to get sucked into it. I feel like Astrid, afloat with nothing to anchor me down. I'd come to an interesting place where I didn't want to keep reading, because I knew it will only get worse for her. But I persevered, and I finished the book last night.
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