the truth is...

After last night and then today alone and in pain. My shoulder/neck is messed up for an unknown reason. I�ve been popping husbands pain pills like candy. And now I realize that I need help. I need to go to a doctor look at him desperately and say...

�I am depressed�desperately sadly depressed. I find blips of bliss but I can�t touch them. I think about my demise, meaning I think about what everyone elses life would be like with the onslaught of my absence and sadly I think they would be better off. I see oncoming cars and wonder how much it hurts to die by crashing into their headlights. I wonder if picking an oncoming car means that I�m killing someone�s grandmother or a murderer never caught. IF god would somehow direct my death wish into someone worth dying. I think about these things, never act upon them, because there is this blue eyed little boy that stops me. He�s ever present in my mind, and yet I don�t think a child should be what stops me. It should be my own happiness and desire for life. I love my husband desperately despite the fact that he cheated on me, left me and still lies to me. I want to work things out with him because I feel that�s the only way I�ll ever be happy again. I remember eleven years ago watching him lying in an old pair of levi�s under the light of the streetlight in an apartment that only held a sweat sex soaked bed sagging in the middle..his chest lit up by the streetlight. I didn�t move, didn�t get paper to write it down, I just sat on the floor near enough to hear his breaths coming ragged in his drunken chest, and I loved him with the power of a airplane flying through a storm, I loved him with every bone in my skeleton, every drop of blood dangling through my veins, I loved him then, and despite the fact that he has ripped the flesh from my heart with his bare hands, I have looked for that feeling everywhere. Under scars, under night skys in others arms, in the midst of text like drowing in words, I have looked and looked since it walked out of my life one saturday afternoon on the coat tails of a lie. I have sought and looked and remembered and cryed for everything lost. I mostly sit in the dark and go right back to that moment and wonder for hours where it all started, how simple it came into my life, and then where did it end. When did I let it all slip away? I walked into the bedroom last night and saw that same chest 11 years gone by, ragged breath in the night light of the streelight, a past life. I stood in the doorway, near enough and again I did not write. I remember what that love feels like, and if I never find it again, I will never breath again. There will never be anything but wrong. It will never ever again feel right.�

Do you suppose if I laid out the truth like that that a doctor would give me some drugs? Do you suppose anyone can help?

I just printed that section out and I'm going to mail it to husband. Maybe if he reads the gut wrenching truth behind all of my silence, all of my pain, all of my tears...at least he might then know...know a few things....about the truth. He thinks I see him as this horrible despicable man who did terrible things. I saw, I always saw a man that was confused, needing someone that was happy enough to show him happiness. Instead his wife was miserably depressed. I see the truth... I always did. The anger so often is the biggest liar.