maybe i'm just like my father too bold

He drank today. For some reason, he thinks that he can hide it from me. But I can always tell, there really is no point in even asking. Aside from the smell permeating from his body, he is much more talkative and his eyes can't seem to focus. I can always tell, its always the same. He came upstairs as I was getting ready to go to sleep; I asked (in a tone more bitchy than necessary) if he planned on continuing to pretend that he had done nothing wrong AND lied to me about it, repeatedly. He said nothing. I prodded, which lead to an argument. I told him that even though I had made several empty promises about kicking him out or breaking up with him if he drank again, one day, I would snap and remove him from my life for good. Like usual, he did not seem too perturbed by that. We argued a little more, resulting in no resolution and him taking a pillow and blanket downstairs and me making snarky comments like "start looking for apartments" and "I'm locking the door, don't bother trying to come back up here". I watched some TV in an attempt to wind down before going to sleep, but couldn't stop thinking about the situation.

Part of me feels like I should feel triumphant; that even though the argument didn't really come to any close, he is being "punished" by sleeping on the couch, while I get my super comfy bed all to myself.

Then the other part of me, the part of me that has been in love with him since pretty much the day we met, recognizes that while yes, I do have this big bed all to myself, I'm still sleeping alone tonight. No one to cuddle with, no one to kiss me goodnight and tell me they love me. Not having the comforting knowledge that even if we aren't touching at all when we're asleep, I have someone beside me who cares for me. And to think if this continues, the fighting, the lying, the not talking about the fighting and the lying, it may be a long time before I find that comfort again. That terrifies me. Maybe I'm just a brat who has gotten so used to having a boyfriend who is madly in love with me, that the thought of losing the little comforts he provides me is scary. Or more likely, I'm 24 and in the first real relationship of my life and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

Either way, I will be sleeping on the left side of the bed, on my stomach, not moving around at all because I'm so used to him being on my right. I will be sleeping alone.