

"When every thought becomes excessively painful, action is the finest remedy."
--Salman Rushdie
I havenapos;t even made it through 48 hours. I keep fighting with myself; slapping my own hand away from picking up my cell phone to make that call. I have even typed out text messages only to tell myself, "Lizzy? Donapos;t."
I have been told by friends that a man who speaks to me like this is only a waste of my time. So then why donapos;t I feel that way?
I was asked last night why I would want to be with someone who doesnapos;t want me to even speak to them anymore. And my answer was: "I donapos;t know. I just DO."
I think I went into this Tuesday afternoon by attempting to express my frustration over certain things. I was expecting a different reaction.
I suppose I was expecting something like reassurance, something like big arms wrapped around me, something like strong words telling me that it didnapos;t matter what people said or what happened, something like declarations of love. Something like that.
Instead, I was cursed at, dehumanized, and insulted.
Which brings me back to the topic of the day: why on Earth would I want to involve myself with someone who treats me like this?
All I wanted was a conversation. Constructive. Adult. Reasonable.
Maybe I wanted a little reassurance. A little strength.
What should I do? Should I pick up that phone? Should I knock on that door? Or should I just let it play out?
Iapos;m afraid that if I make no action, I will receive none in return.
The Andy Wood Diet is not recommended.
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