I miss Simeon.
I’m already tired of the talking And the whining. And the negativity. And the icky insincere affection. And the weird death threats. Today he ran his index finger along my neck like he was going to slit my throat. Cute, no?
I’m tired of people coming to my house.
I’ve had kids I’ve attached to easier than others. This pair takes the cake. I take that back. Bianca I can handle. In fact, if it were just her, I’m certain I would really appreciate her more than the others her age.
Is it wrong to say I really don’t like Angelo?
There’s a wild look in his eyes. A hardness.
I’m already resenting the demands he makes on me. Too much. He’s never quiet. He’s always touching me, but not in a snuggly way. He’s always wanting to show me things. He tries desperately to impress me, you know, when he’s not plotting my ultimate demise. He brags, he barters, he picks and picks and picks and picks…
I’m trying to remember where he’s come from. How many times he’s been rejected, abandoned. I’m trying to be empathetic to his confusion. It must be hard to understand what it takes to feel wanted, to be kept. He’s not had stability. He doesn’t know tenderness. I’m trying to have grace. I’m trying to be patient.
God help me, I’m trying.
I’m not doing a very good job.
I’m praying without ceasing. I’m praying that a miracle happens and Leo and I find stride and that Angelo can see that we would be happier if he tried a little less.