It's 5:30 in the morning, and the dog is sick. He keeps dry heaving, and not doing anything when I take him outside. I'm assuming it's because he's constipated. But that's not the reason I'm writing, only the condition in which I'm doing so. No, I'm writing because I'm finding myself in a position I far too often experienced while in the middle of my last relationship. I'm left awake, and feeling slightly ill from running on only a few hours of sleep, and from having this nasty wrenching in my gut telling me that I have done something wrong when for the life of me I can't think what the hell it might have been. And what kills is the fact that I find myself feeling that way a fucking lot lately.

     I'm married now. That fact alone puts me in new waters. But another fact puts me there, too. In just about any other relationship, I would have run for the hills at the slightest scent of trouble. But here I am, trying for the life of me to work through the tangled web of emotions, because this time... I want it to work out. I don't want to be left running for the hills only to start over again on the other side.

     But the simple, or rather complicated, fact of the matter is... I have no idea how the fuck I feel. Tiff is always angry, at one thing or another. Or maybe she isn't, and I just percieve it wrong. But the fact remains that there is always a charge about the air that says, "Danger." And I don't know if it's just me or not... and there is always something else. When things should be calm and relaxed, there is always something to stress the situation. Money, dishes, trash, laundry, the animals... I always feel like I'm not doing enough, or something, and it's driving me fucking mad because when I do do something, it's never right.

     I'm not making enough money. I know this, and I can't work any harder. I've put in a few applications elsewhere, but nothing so far. That fact alone is stressful. I do not want to get into the job hunt again. I spent every fucking day in Washington stressing over the fact that I didn't have a job, and that I couldn't fucking find one despite my efforts. Just filling out an application fills me with a horrible sense of depression and anger I can't even rationalize. Added on top of that is the constant reminder from Tiff that it's not fucking enough. And I am SICK of hearing it. And every time she says it, she says it like I'm some kind of fucking idiot who doesn't quite understand the fact that we don't have enough money. I do understand. I DO. The simple fact of the matter is that I can't fucking change it, and I'm really sick of hearing about how I need to and hearing about how I should go about it.

     Things seem like shit, but they really aren't. We are getting by just fine. We're not able to live in monetary comfort the way we'd both like, but we are getting by. We're getting by well enough to pay all the bills, and buy a couch. And were it not for the fact that we blow money on random shit, we wouldn't be struggling at all.

     But it's still not enough. Or at least that's how it feels. Tiff wants money to get by and to blow. I'd like that, too. But the difference here is that she's laying a great deal of stress on having that money, and laying the sole responsibility for it on me. And it's pissing me off. I've spent the past 22 years in a stressful situation. I really do not fucking want to have to cope with another one when it really is not a requirement for my survival. Our ways of dealing with financial... whatever... is totally different. Right now, I would be happy with what we have. It's more than I've had in 10 years. We get by, there's food on the table, and a little extra to blow here and there. We blow more than we ought to, but even if we didn't, we would have it. But Tiff stresses about it constantly, and then stresses me about it... and I know that's just the way she is, but I am really fucking tired of it. I would love if we had the money to blow without having to worry constantly, but that is just not where we are right now.

     And as much as I hate myself for even feeling this way, I really wish Tiff would just fucking accept what we have, and be happy with it until things can work themselves out. Because of the way things are, she's constantly pushing me to find another job, to get more hours, to move on to new things, but I don't fucking WANT to. THIS IS NEW. I am SICK of doing as I'm fucking told. And that's the way it is! With everything, it's do as Tiff says. And I HATE that I feel that way, but I fucking do, and try as I have, I can't fucking help that fact. I tried, I really did, but no matter how much I tried to shove that aside and say to myself that I didn't feel that way, I do. I feel like I've married a parental figure, and that I have to do as I'm told or I'm a horrible naughty child who has to face the wrath of an angry authority figure. And I am Fucking Sick of it. Sick of feeling that way, sick of being in any kind of position that makes me even think such things. I'm just fucking tired. And it's not even the fact that she is how she is, it's the trying not to be stressed and trying to be good enough and to not feel so fucking unhappy all the time. I hate it. I love Tiff, I know I do, and the whole root of my problem isn't even her. It's me. The way I feel, or the way I shouldn't feel, or the way I think I'm supposed to feel... I'm unhappy because I'm unhappy. I don't think I should be, but because I am, I hate myself, and the whole situation. And the problem is that I don't know why I'm unhappy. Sometimes I'm fine. When Tiff is smiling or we're talking or something, but when things go quiet or there's tension in the air... which is almost all the time... I just can't stop wanting to crawl in bed and cry.

     I can't even tell if the things that bother me are things worth being bothered over, and because of that, I don't say anything, and then it just festers. I'm sick of how she tells me to stop when she thinks I'm doing something annoying. I'm sick of how she asks me who I am or when Marcy is coming back when I do something she finds obnoxious or out of the ordinary. I'm sick of how she looks at me like I'm immature and stupid and annoying. I'm just fucking sick. I hate feeling like some kind of obnoxious failure because she doesn't like me the way I am. She doesn't like my habits, the way my thoughts process, the way I speak randomly about random shit, or the fact that I want to have fun. I spent most of my life not having fun and not being myself because I was trapped, and now I'm free of that trap, only to find myself in a different kind of trap. It upsets me that I have to ask permission to do things. That I have to ask permission to have a drink of alcohol. That I have to endure the disapproving air when I have energy drinks or anything else she doesn't approve of. I am willing to compromise because that's what keeps a relationship together... but I feel like I'm the only one fucking bending here. I can get her to compromise on small things, but anything that would change her... I don't even ask for. And I don't want to because I don't want her to have to change. And I sure as hell don't want to have to change either, but I feel like I have to. I feel like I have to sit quiet and contrite lest I bother her in some unforeseen way. I feel... oppressed. Stifled. I don't know. I feel guilty for even feeling that way. But I do.

     And I'm sick of how she talks to me like I'm some kind of idiot child. Like earlier when I asked what we should do with Tilla, if we should just go back to bed or not. And she got this look on her face and this tone in her voice like I was some kind of fucking idiot, and said that she'd only been asleep for two and a half hours, that she was sick and burning up, and that she was going back to bed, and didn't give a shit what I did. Like it's somehow my fucking fault that Tilla got sick, and that she doesn't feel good and hadn't been asleep long. I hadn't been asleep long either. I fell asleep only a few minutes before she came in. And that's only this one instance. She talks to me like that all the fucking time. It doesn't even matter what about, she gets that same tone in her voice, and that same look on her face like I'm just a fucking idiot that needs everything explained real slow... and I'm sick of it. No. I'm more than sick of it. I want it to stop. Everytime she fucking talks to me that way, I want to tell her to go to hell, and I want to leave.

     And I'm really really sick of hearing my mom being ripped apart. I know she should leave my dad. I know she can be a doormat sometimes. I know she should get Talia checked out. She's far from perfect. But I don't care. She's my mother, and I love her despite it all, and I am really fucking tired of hearing how she's a horrible mother and an idiot for not leaving my dad, and I'm also sick of hearing how she can't be trusted and is unreliable. NOBODY can say that shit about her. I do not want to hear it anymore. Sharon isn't exactly the shining example of motherhood either, and she, too, continues to live with her idiot of a husband. But I don't fucking talk shit about her even though she has to have her daughter pay so she can see her, or fit her husband's time-frame allowance to do so.

     I'm sick of all the bullshit. I want it to stop. Because I am really fucking sick of feeling like shit all the time. I hate that when everything is boiled down, all I can feel is unhappy. And I hate that I can't tell whether the unhappiness is because of the financial bullshit, because of Tiff or Me, or medical depression... or if maybe it's because we just don't fit. And what troubles me most is that I can't always rule that last one out. Sometimes I can say beyond any shadow of a doubt that we are meant to be, but at other times... I just don't know. I don't know how any two people can bother each other so much, and still be meant to be. I'm obviously too... fly-away... immature... I don't know. And she's too rigid, and serious, and bossy. On one hand, we should be perfect. Her groundedness to my flight... but as it stands, I feel suffocated and she finds me annoying and childish.

     I don't know... all I know is that things have to change. I really want them to change. I want everything to work out, and I want to be happy. I want to be with the person I fell in love with. But I want to be with that person more than just every now and then. I'm sick of every little thing getting in the way; putting stress on the relationship, and making who we are... or who we were before... just disappear, engulfed in the stress of the moment. Swallowed up in the silence.

     Whatever. I'm done. It's 8am now, and my thoughts have pretty much melted together into one great big blob of gray. I'm not even sure if this little rant makes any sense as it ran from one thing into the next. I can't think anymore. So I'm going to bed.