This man has realized that he has descended into childish behaviour over the last few months and begun a process of control freakism. He has informed me in this book that he is to become more of a man and lover than some middle class husband shit.
You’ve probably guessed I didn’t write that. If only I could love myself the way he loves me. If only I could see in myself the things he sees.
I wish I could stop analyzing. No, I don’t wish that at all. When I can no longer analyze, I can no longer question everything I see and that’s what I like to do although it often sends me down a path where all the signposts are missing. They’ll be plenty of time to stop when I’m either senile or dead.
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