and every day is the worst day ever...

Four walls. Two windows. One door. No desire to be here. I look forward to felony court every six weeks. The docket is light. Nearly everyone pleads. There is no possibility of a trial. I don't have to be at work until 10, versus 8 a.m. It should be a nice week for me every time I'm down here, but this week, it feels monotonous and dull. There are so few clients, it's hardly worth showing up for. I just feel like this was a waste of a suit and makeup...

We've been talking for over three months and official for over a month and a half. Though that is not a very long time, we have spent hours upon hours together, and I have been to your parents' home on too many occasions to count.

Last night, I was distraught, tired and ill. You wanted me to stay; I protested, saying that it disrespected your family, that it would be weird. You said, it's only weird if you make it weird. Then your mother explained in no uncertain terms that I needed to leave.

I wonder, sometimes. Is my forehead branded with "Don't Trust Me?" The scarlett letter? What is my problem? I have a longstanding history with my exes' dads. One called me Jezabel for three years; another refused to acknowledge my existence and would simply not speak to or look at me; yet another told me to expect "no charity" from his family because I had "stolen" his son's virginity.

Until now, I have never had a problem with a mother. I understand that I crossed a line--I should not have asked to stay in her home this early in my relationship with her son. Nonetheless, I don't understand why it was such a problem to ask to spend one night there. I brought you your favorite cookies. I always take time to talk to you when I certainly have no obligation to do so. I know that he has brought other women there of less consequence and they have been allowed to spend the night without question. I don't feel like I'm just a random girl; I am becoming a lasting part of his life. I have gone out of my way to show kindness and respect, and you threw me out of your house with no reason whatsoever. Calling me Jezabel is far less insulting.

d i s t a n c e .

It's terribly depressing that, as we sit together on the sofa, I can actually feel us growing apart.

You aren't listening as you used to. You aren't doting as you once did. You are on the other side of the sofa, texting, talking to someone else, playing a video game, and doing anything else necessary to completely ignore me.

Excuses are unnecessary. As similar as we are, the feeling has changed. You routinely outwear your welcome and do not take hints. As much as I want to spend time with you, you need to leave long enough for me to miss you before I will actually wish we were together again. You've crowded in so close, you've made us distant. Please, back off.