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Ugh.

J’s still off. He’s left to go do something. He said yesterday that he’s going to find a job today. Spent like, two hours on the internet sending off resumes (?) so hopefully something happens, since he’s starting to go a tad stir crazy.

Actually so am I, really. I mean, we’ve talked about this personal space thing before, but he doesn’t seem to get it. Well, perhaps that’s not entirely fair, he’s said he’ll leave for a couple hours if I need it, but I whenever I feel I need it, it’s like the wrong time to ask because I feel like he’ll get offended or something. (He takes everything so personally these days, and I suppose that’s a symptom of being off work so long.)

I’ve tried looking for a place to go, but nothing is quite right. I always forget to bring something, or the place I’ve chosen is occupied. I need to be able to spread my stuff out and to leave it for the next time, to not have it poked at or questioned. You can’t question a work in progress because sometimes you don’t even know the answers. i.e. “What’s it about?” I want to just say “shut up I’m trying to figure that out” but that’s just so not nice, so I shake my head to indicate I can’t talk or something and then it’s all about how I’m pissy. Well I am now! *Sigh*

I picked up one of my old notebooks last night and started to read and J was all “what are you doing”? The simple answer was ‘reading’ but since he read one of my notebooks at one point and found a rant about himself (hey, it’s the prerogative of the diarist to vent to the deaf and dumb leaves of a notebook, is it not?) he’s instantly suspicious. Yeah, he read one of my notebooks. And randomly, he’s also apparently ready my internet history. Granted I made a mistake and I suppose on one level his actions are me paying for that mistake but I can’t help feeling this is a violation of my privacy and thus unacceptable. I haven’t written anything down in months because I’m afraid if I leave anything anywhere unattended it’s going to get read, never mind what it is. Some of my poetry, fiction etc was never meant for anyone but me since they’re a step in a process. The finished work is for consumption by others. I’ve always been that way. Hell even ask my mother!

I’ve been walking around for months with this knot in my gut, partially about the above and partially about J’s ultimatum. You read that right.

An ultimatum (Latin: the last one) is a demand whose fulfillment is requested in a specified period of time and which is backed up by a threat to be followed through in case of noncompliance. An ultimatum is generally the final demand in a series of requests. As such, the time allotted is usually short, and the request is understood not to be open to further negotiation.

He says if I haven’t made my mind up to move to Ontario with him by April, he’s going without me. This has been spinning around and around in my head over and over and over. There are reasons to go and reasons not to. Nothing feels right anymore.

When I had lunch with Lindsie she said some things that made sense, specifically that I can’t be expected to make a choice I don’t want to make, no matter what the reason, if I’m not ready to make it.

Right now, I’m not ready to make this choice. I’m not ready to leave. J’s not ready to stay.

So where does that leave us?

listening to – Beautiful day without you – Röyksopp