radio silence is my absolute favorite.

It has been four days since Jon and I actually had a real conversation. He is doing this thing he used to do before the divorce where he just… retreats. Short texts, vague excuses about work. I am trying not to spiral but my anxiety is definitely winning today. I spent my whole shift at the coffee bar just glaring at the espresso machine and snapping at anyone who ordered a decaf. I know I shouldn’t project, but here we are. It doesn’t help that the 22-year-old is dropping massive hints about finding a place with her friends. If she moves out, I am going to lose my absolute mind. I need to go find a dark corner and blast some old Garbage tracks until I feel normal again.