Sink

I was fucking industrious today. JB thinks that I should burn off all the extra bitch-mode energy I have and so he suggested that I workout this afternoon. Well, not so much "suggested" as "strongly advised"...which looks like: "No, you will go."

I'm still deciding how to feel about this new element in our relationship (poor choice of words, but can't be helped...I looked for another one, I swear) -- specifically, the manner in which he gets access and control over my activites on a daily basis. Sure, I want someone to make me do things that will help me find happiness. If I could do them on my own, I would have.

But I haven't. And I probably won't. I'm fucking lazy. I do the smallest amount of work necessary to achieve satisfactory results. There are certainly more secret, more injurious forces at work here, but let's not delve beneathe that surface too far, shall we?

Let him tell me what to do? Feel obligated to actually follow-through? Who is this girl? When did I let this happen? I am used to autonomous me, independent me, in debt to no one, a burden on no one. When did I let myself embrace this? When did I give this to someone else?

I feel like I'm underwater. Cold, slow block of impenetrable liquid; haunted water, with cabalfish at my groping feet and tetherweeds before my face. I could get lost here. I could sink so deep that light would stop existing. But I am not that girl. Not yet. How do I keep from breaking the surface and gulping salty, panicked water? How do I say that I am worth more than my life has taught me?

But today, I was industrious. And good. I'm already missing what that anger was giving me. I'm headed back toward numb. Maybe it's just good...numb. When did I start to believe otherwise?