Diary of an insane woman with bad insecurities.

I need to vent.
I can safely say that the events told about are all my fault.
This doesn't make me feel better.

It all started on Friday.
Friday my S.O. left me for Chicago.
I felt lonely, but I refused to call him.
Same with Saturday.
I was determined to leave him alone so he could have a good time and not have to worry about me.
Sunday came, and he told me that he was definitely coming home Sunday.
He went to the White Sox game that went into it's 19th inning.
I kind of wondered if he would really come home.

So at 10:30 at night, I called him.
No answer.
I left a message saying please call.
Never called.
At 4:30 in the morning, I woke up worrying for no reason.
Women just have to worry, something about our genetic code.
I text messaged him.
No answer.
I finally made it back to sleep.
7 am I woke up for work.
So tired.
Needed my book for my job.
Couldn't find it.
Thought for a minute, and realized I probably left it at S.O.'s apartment.
Shit. shit. shit.
As I was walking to work, I noticed that S.O.'s car wasn't there.
He did stay in Chicago.
Good I thought, I'll run up, knock on his door (just in case), then let myself in, get my book and then I'll be good for the day.
Did just that, except when I got in, S.O. was there.
I had woken him walking in.
SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.
He didn't act mad that I was there.
But I felt sooo bad.
Looking back on it, my actions look bitchy.
I'm so miserable.
I walked in, said I was sorry three times while madly looking for my book.
WHICH I DIDN'T FIND!
He was red in the face from sleeping.
He shook his fist at me in that cute sort of way.
Laid back down.
I left as quickly as I came in.
Without saying goodbye.
I feel horrible.