Fly.

You know, if I had wanted a husband who was often away for work, I would have married a pilot, steward, or some regional/global businessman.

This isn’t fun anymore. (Though it was never meant to be.) And at the rate I can’t care anymore – mostly because I can’t do a thing about it anyway – it’s starting to eat away at me.

I don’t like being made to contend with situations that I have no say in whatsoever.

No mood. Miffed. Screaming silently inside my head.

 

 

 

 

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