The morning after, the Moron went to work, and I caught myself feeling weightless and hopeful, but life had taught me otherwise. It wasn't that hard, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop...
When the Moron came home from work that night, he acted as if everything was fine. As if nothing had happened. In the Moron's world, apparently life had reset itself and nothing had changed. In my world, however, everything had changed, and I wasn't about to go back to my old life. This was my line in the sand.
I calmly told him he had to move out. To which he refused. But I had inticipated this, and packed up the Lil Peanut and a few things and we were out the door and off to my sister's place (about 45 minutes away). There was no way I was living another minute with him. And I wasn't about to give him a chance to stop us.
My line in the sand had been drawn - and I was determined to make it stick. I felt this yearning for more. For better. I wanted more, deserved better, and dammit the Lil Pixie was going to have better. The 9 months of her growing inside me, as well as the year of her life, had strenghthened me. Instilled a hope of more for us, provided a light for the me I dared to dream, for the me I once was. To become my own happy ending. This was my line in the sand, and if I crossed it, I would have nowhere else to go. Nowhere but down. And I wanted more.
Something awoke in me, and I wasn't about to let it lie. My line in the sand is what held me strong in my fight.