I'm done.
Friday, Mar. 22, 2013 3:15 PM

�I've never fooled anyone. I've let people fool themselves. They didn't bother to find out who and what I was. Instead they would invent a character for me. I wouldn't argue with them. They were obviously loving somebody I wasn't.� ― Marilyn Monroe

Not last night but the night before I caught Kent sneaking a bottle of vodka out of the car.

"What's that," I asked him.

"It's nothing," he said.

"Kent, what is it?" I said.

"Just a bag of candy," he replied.

"Let me see," I said. I knew it was alcohol. I know the look of the brown bag he hides it in. I know when he's lying to me, too. He can never look me in the eye.

He relented and showed me the bottle of vodka. It's never a little bottle. It's always the biggest bottle of vodka you can find. "Hand it here," I said. He replied with a firm no. "I said, hand it here." He shook his head no. So then I said, "Fine. Get drunk. But once you're done getting drunk, get the hell out of my house." I then went back inside and climbed into the shower.

He came running inside, of course. Showed me the empty bottle of vodka saying he poured it down the sink. I said, "Okay then. Now get out of my house." He said no and I said, "Get out."

"You're just being emotional," he said.

I started to laugh. "Look me in the eye, Kent. Do I look like I'm being emotional? Do I sound like I'm emotional? I'm done with this relationship. I've been done with it for a long time. Tomorrow when I get off work I want you gone." I said all of this without batting an eye, never shed a tear, just looked him straight in the eye and said it without any emotion at all. That's how I know I've moved on. I feel nothing for him.

He started to beg for me to forgive him. "I'll never do it again. I promise." Of course this was followed by, "I'll do anything for you. I'll go to AA meetings. I'll go to church. Tell me what I can do to fix this?"

"You can't fix this," I said. "It's been broken for years. You know it. I know it. I'm done."

"No. You can't be done."

"Get it through your head, Kent. I am done. I've been done for a long time. Now pack your bags and move to your parents house."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"They don't have room for me."

And our conversation went on like that through the night and all the way through yesterday. I kept asking him, "Packed your bags yet?" Which would be followed with, "No. I have nowhere to go. I want to live with you forever. I love you. I want to grow old with you." To which I'd reply, "I don't want to grow old with you. I don't love you anymore."

"Then we'll live like roommates," he said.

"We already live like roommates. That's what we've been doing for the last four years. You need to move out. I'm done."

"I can't move out. I have nowhere to go."

He kept begging for one more chance. I kept telling him I've given him enough chances. He begged for one more and I told him no. It's a broken record. He makes false promises and fails to pull through. He asked me to let him live in the house for now and if he fails again he will leave. I grew so tired of the conversation I just stopped answering.

I don't know where this is all headed, but I think it's a step in the right direction for me. He may not have anywhere to go, but at least he knows for certain that I no longer love him, that I have no qualms in kicking him out, and that if he doesn't leave, I will take the cats and leave myself. And I proved to myself that it won't hurt as much as I feared it would... that I handled it quite well. Not once did I cry. Not once did I feel an emotional loss or any fear. I was very calm, collected, and concise.

For now, I am just so tired. This whole thing makes me sleepy. Maybe stress makes me sleepy. I could go for a nap right now, actually.

Last night I took a sleeping pill. My mom had bought me a bottle to help me get some sleep at night since I've had issues with staying up all night. She said, "don't let JR get a hold of these. I'm afraid he'd do something stupid with them." Then last night as I drifted off to sleep after taking one, I couldn't help but think to myself, "this wouldn't be such a bad way to go. Just pop a bunch of these and drift off to sleep. I could die like that and be okay with it."

Odd thing is, I really would be okay with it.