Friday night. Jim went to Wal-Mart. I could have gone if I'd wanted, but I wanted to be difficult so I didn't ask. I'm waiting for him to get back. I feel better now. I was moody and sad, as I often am. I often feel insecure and want to be reassured. That doesn't happen, though. He says nice things to me though not as often as I'd like.
I should write them down. That way I can refer to them often and not telling myself that he never says sweet things. It's not true.
Later: he was low when he got back. And then went lower -- got all sweaty but didn't pass out.
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