My diary isn't safe to write in any more
Today I began work at midday.
Things seemed normal until half an hour into my shift, Luke comes up to me in store, his eyes rimmed with red from recent tears, and tells me to come outside with him.
It's an emergency.
I follow him into the parking lot and ask him all sorts of questions, is chip okay? What's happened? Are you okay? What's wrong? Luke?
We get into his car across the lot and he immediately says, "First off, we're over".
Then he slams down my DIARY on my lap and another notebook i havent seen before, with a roufh translation of my last entry, which I had written in Greek.
It wasn't good. I had written about some feelings I'd had the other day when Luke was experiencing more manic episodes of paranoia and doubt and being an ass to me, accusing me of all sorts when I was hanging out with my nana. Telling me I'm pathetic and stupid. I don't remember it all, but it was hurtful. I wrote about my feelings and he violated my one safe place to write by translating the words with Google, can you believe.
I'm mortified. I think we are finally over.