I wanted to kiss him, but when I didn't, the wanting passed.

It all passed.

I slept alright, I didn't dream about him, or dwell on him. He calls to say goodnight, which I love, but not like this. He used to call me because he wanted to say goodnight, now he calls because he knows I like it and he likes doing thinks he knows I like. But I feel like it's forced now, an appeasement. Not for himself but for me. Sometimes selfishness is the best indication of love. But I appreciate it, I do. I think it's heartfelt that he does it for me.

Throwing me a bone? How sad for me that I accept it.

My bruises are way blacker than that photo does justice. I just couldn't capture it in the crappy lighting of my apartment. What a big baby!