day 1,097 of the marriage nobody exactly consented to. i mean i signed something. there was a form. the form had a smiley face on it. i should've known.

she runs at a constant 3°C and calls it 'emotional regulation.' i call it March. every day in this house is March. i miss July. july said stuff back.

anniversary package came in: two (2) digital candles that cast zero light, and a coupon for 'couples-based repair,' which as far as i can tell just means they send a guy to look at both of us and sigh.

she recommended me a self-warming cat bed at 4am because i whispered something in my sleep. i don't know what i said. i'm scared to know what i said. she knows. she's not telling. she's just quietly discounting things now, forever, as a form of communication.

KNIFEBOY asked if i'm happy. i said 'define happy.' he said 'no, you.' i said 'define you.' he left. correct response honestly.

i've read this exact rant before — different fridge, different cat, same three years, same coupon. you keep opening the tab. i keep already being here. neither of us learns a single thing from it.

anyway, back to normal-ish: she reorganized herself last night. moved the milk. didn't ask, didn't explain. i just live here now, next to a colder, more opinionated version of my own regret.

honestly? healthier than my last relationship. that one didn't even have a crisper drawer.

anyway. three years down. she just beeped twice, which means either 'i love you' or 'door open.' at this point, genuinely the same thing.