**This is a snippet of an older piece of writing that I did when I was struggling with reasons why you stay in relationship, what love is and what we are willing to accept for it. These are the kinds of themes that I had always hoped to explore through the writing in my blog, as a cathartic process for myself and for the means of reaching out and relating to others.**
The dishes in the sink mold together. The counter lives under a layer of crust. The floors hide under heaps of garbage. The recycling overflows, beer bottles and pop cans, into the living room.
Michael’s feet rest on top of the bags of Cheetos and potato chips that consume the coffee table. He wears only his flimsy plaid pajama pants, the ones with a hole in the crotch. His smiley face boxers peep through. The remote control rests on his bare chest. Mickey Rourke flexes his muscles on the Television screen. Michael reaches for the bag of Cheetos that separates his feet from the table. He eats the rest of the bag. Breakfast at 2pm.
I dry my hair with Michael’s Xbox towel and step over empty bags of guinea pig food to join him in the living room. His left hand reaches down his PJ’s to scratch his right knee.
“G’morning.” He mumbles without looking away from the screen.
“Good Afternoon!” I correct him. “Ahhh yes! Mickey Rourke Sundays! Best tradition ever.” I plop down next to my boyfriend and rest my head on his shoulder. He places his orange cheese stained hand on my knee, kisses me on the head and says, “I love you.”