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I’m sitting and looking out the window. The sky is hidden behind one big endless could. I’ve just finished doing exercises. Music is still playing. I like to think while listening to music. Something is amiss. A is not happy. And she’ll probably never be. Her dissatisfaction and constant worrying have a highly negative impact on my ability to think. I can’t think clearly while she constantly distracts me with petty things. We can’t do anything together. A week ago, I was overly optimistic, believing that we’re gonna read Schopenhauer, watch certain movies, discuss what I write in this diary, etc. Whenever I suggest doing something together, she immediately loses her temper. She says she’s tired, or she says that she doesn’t want it, or that she just wants to “communicate” with me. Most of the time we spend together feels as if it were a waste of time. She conditions me to be a good boy by making me feel special. It seems she unconsciously follows the patterns described in the book I’m currently reading. She says that all of her previous boys were kinda dishonest. She says she wasn’t lucky, but me—
It’s weird to observe how she elevates certain qualities in men trying to turn me, perhaps unconsciously, into an ideal AFC. Yesterday, she also said that her experience with men was quite strange; they either loved her insanely or hated her. She is concerned that I might turn into a hater, since I’m not, as she says, so deeply in love with her. Most of her concerns are completely imaginary and based on ridiculous superstitions, but talking to her about it makes no sense. 70 days ago, I believed that financial independence was the primary issue, which, being solved, would lead us to a peaceful existence, but now I think it was a mistake.
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