a matter of weirdness

I'm on fire, burning mad again!
Is it me? Is it him?
Me. Its me of course. I'm the one willing to look, so, of course its me.

How quickly I can spit out hostility. Why?

Why, why, why am I sitting here feeling fear, (because as he left the house two hours ago, he muttered 'keep it up" and I fired back, "yeah, well you just think about how kind YOU have been the past 24 hours!" Fear of what? That he'll reject me?

All I've ever really wanted is just to be cherished. Loved unconditionally. I've wanted a parent to love me unconditionally. I wanted a grown up man to be my lover and partner and to love me unconditionally. Well... really what I mean is cherish me. Someone to see me and appreciate me and cherish me. Love me.

He storms out of the house like an adolescent who has decided that he doesn't like to be accountable and who can just say what ever he wants and behave with callus and disdain when ever the mood so strikes him. NO, as a matter of fact. I do not want to listen to the story on the radio. I want to greet you, and catch up with you about your day. See if you'd received my email, and what you thought. I want to connect with you, my partner, my human. But you.. you just want to delve into a radio story, shut out the world, tune it all out. Accuse me of acting weird.
We clash.

But what to do? I hate the way things are when it gets like this.

It sucks. But can we see it? Can we name it? Can we minimize the hurt and fear and hostility? Can we get out of our stories? Can we handle waiting to get what we want?

How much of this is about me seeing pictures of myself and feeling a sense of disdain and loathing come over me with regard to my size? A lot, I bet.