Life Sucks and then You Die

It is times like these that I wish I were not. No, I am not suicidal; life simply sucks. This evening went to hell when I tried to communicate my concerns about needing time for my stuff in my place with MM. Needless to say, the conversation went to hell in a handbasket. She just can't seem to grasp that I don't feel at home in her house when I have set parts of my life on hold to be with her. I chose to be with her. I am responsible for that. But I really don't have any desire to sit and watch her pull weeds or play with her damn dogs when I have frankly sacrificed something of mine to be there. Maybe I am acting like a self-centered pig when I say that. I know that she has a lot on her plate. I have tried to be supportive. I am sick and tired of having to spend all of our time together there. My home has become a site for quickies and to dump stuff. It is almost as if I don't have a home anymore. I don't like that feeling at all. I tried to communicate this to her and only heard that I was attacking her and that she has a tender heart. DAMNIT...

Life sucks. Period.