She really is. She wants the life that she always dreamed about, and it doesn’t include me or the house and all of it’s many responsibilities like the pets and the day to day bullshit. I get it. She has always wanted it to be “her way” and she has been unhappy for years having to be disappointed in her life and her family. I was unhappy as well because I had a partner who, instead of making peace with the way life is, decided to pull back from that which she no longer has any interest in, like an old basement bathroom that you are tired of having to clean so you just give up on it all together. You still use it, but it just gets filthier and even more disgusting, reinforcing the very apathy that lead to the neglect in the first place. The bathroom being me and most of the house in general. So I get it, and instead of prolonging the misery for us and the now grown Henry, we have come to an agreement. She is going to get her dream apartment right by work as she can afford a really nice place, and I will stay in the house and that will be that. Of course, I will have to get a real job. Despite my productivity, wealth eludes me and I don’t make shit. So I can almost afford to stay here, but not quite. I can’t stand on my crippled leg for too long and I live with 24/7 pain, but I am sure I can find an easy job that won’t numb my mind. More to follow. In the meantime, here is a diary comic from 2009(!) describing our dysfunctional relationship. Nothing has changed, is only gotten darker and colder.