I was a mess yesterday afternoon. I was packing up some kitchen stuff. Things I think we won’t need between now and moving into our own apartments. Throwing some stuff away that we haven’t used in the last few years. Separating things into his and hers boxes. When my husband came home I got so emotional and tried so hard not to cry. I love the man dearly. But as I was cleaning, the lack of clean counter space, and overflowing garbage and recycle bins made me feel grateful and anxious to be on my own at the same time. Part of me thinks his place is going to be so filthy and he will see how clean my place is and realize how awful it was for me. To live with someone so sloppy who would never take responsibility for the mess and also not clean up after himself. But deep inside, I know he won’t live like that. He will take the time to clean up after himself in his own place. And that makes me terribly sad. Why couldn’t it have been more important to him to do that all along? Why does he not care enough about how it makes me feel to live in a pig sty? Truthfully, it makes me wish he would live like a pig without me, because otherwise, my heart is going to be completely broken.