Just So You Know

My heart is totally and completely broken.

There is nothing you can do to me that hasn't already been done.

I am so profoundly lonely that I feel my face may break into a million tiny sad pieces.

I want someone to touch my hair. I want to feel skin on skin on skin on skin.

If you tell me it will get better, I will cut you.

It Darkles. It Tincts.

I am struggling with mourning someone who is not dead.

If my husband died- this is just a for instance, law enforcement officials-I could mourn him in completion. I would smell his clothes, rend my garments, claw at my face. I would know what to do. I could put him to rest in my heart.

But he's wandering this Earth, my corner of it, too. I can't mourn him to completion when he's out with his fucking girlfriend. I can't. He's still wearing the clothes I bought him - I can't sleep with them and then give them to the Goodwill or whatever.

I keep finding little artifacts of our marriage in my place. Because it used to be our place. And I just throw them away and move on, but really I don't. There are silhouettes of me stuck in those spots, and I cry cry cry. I cry so much. I cry all the time.

I feel dangerous. I feel...uncharitable. I see her out with him, and I just think, yeah, yeah. Bob your little head along to those songs. They are all about me.

Uncharitable, to say the least.

How can he still sing those songs about me without cutting himself open, putting his head in my lap, saying he is sorry.

But he does.

And I do what I have to do. Sometimes it feels good. Most of the time, it doesn't. I go through the motions, I fill my allotted space. But I am living on the edge of the razor, and either way I fall, you know I'm going to get cut.