Dear J

10 Aug

Dear J,

Bad days turn into bad weeks. And then the months fly by and turn into years. This bitter taste of failure lingers in my mouth no matter how many goals I achieve or how many people I wow. I cannot shake the feeling of being an utter failure…of living a life not meant for me. The dog barks and my last fine strand of patience frays out of existence. The faces stare at me in horror and disbelief, thinking I was beyond these breakdowns. You did this to me…you let it get to this point. You knew I was too stubborn to ask for help…and you just stood there and watched as I broke. I swear you take pleasure in seeing my soul suffer…being suffocated by the life I hate. I know it is only up to me to change my plight…I know that I should be in control…that I should plot the course for my life. I look at your face and try to see the person that I married all those years ago, and sometimes I still do. But mainly I see someone who has become so self-absorbed it makes me
physically sick. I see someone who would rather do anything under the sun than to spend five minutes of meaningful time with his daughter. And I love her beyond words, but I am burnt out on doing it all. I am burnt out on hearing about every minute detail of your day. You just wait for your turn to talk now…you’re never actually listening to me. I want to claw your face and bash you in the head most days. Against everything that God tells me, I fantasize about stabbing you with a rusty knife. And then I feel intensely guilty for thinking about it. I think about you “making it” and leaving. Most days, I think it would be a blessing. I enable your every whim…I give emphatically, and I cannot get that in return.

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