The Dance Ends Now

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I have reached my limit for tolerable bull shit. My niceness, my ass covering, my tongue biting is done. I tango no more with the ever stumbling Mr. Flip-flop and can no longer tolerate the pain in my toes.

THE DANCE ENDS NOW.

For nine and a half months I have bent over backwards to make sure no matter what happened, I was covered should he try to fight for custody of any sort and have been willing to work with him and have cooperated just to be slapped in the face. This will no longer fly. I am human, not superhuman, and I can only take so much before I lose it all and that limit has been reached. My tongue is sore from the weight of unsaid words, my muscles are pulled out of place from the impossible acrobatics I have been forced to perform to keep stress levels down. They aren’t really down, no, just ignored and put aside until that corner is filled up and begins to fill the room to the point of being unable to move freely.

I will no longer partake in his stories, excuses, and down right lies. It is his turn to contort himself. I have bigger things to worry about with the upcoming birth of my son. I feel I have done all that I can throughout my pregnancy. His level of participation is obvious and I am not going out of my way anymore to keep him involved  when he shows no interest regardless of the contradicting statements he has told me. His words mean nothing.

The dance ends now.

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