I've been dealing with a monster of a migraine this week. I told you Tuesday I didn't feel well, you told me you were out of clean socks. (You weren't, they were in the dryer and hadn't been gotten out.) Wednesday I don't think we spoke. Thursday you told me you were out of snacks. Friday I took off work and slept all day. When I was awake you asked why I hadn't washed your hoodie. I do laundry on Sundays or Mondays, and I do it to be nice, not because it's my job. If you put a hoodie in the basket on any day after Monday, it will not be washed until I do laundry again the next weekend. This is not a new system. I went to work this morning, as much for a little peace as anything. You asked, for the first time, if I felt okay. I did not. I do not.
You haven't asked what is wrong. You haven't asked if I need anything. You haven't been quiet at all when I'm trying to sleep. You've basically only talked to me to tell me you're out of things. Because you tell me you have no snacks, and they'll magically appear. I've set this precedent, and I realize that, but I'm just so tired. Every bit of me hurts, inside and out. And I just wish, every now and then, there was someone who wanted to take care of me.
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