Not even ten minutes ago she walked through what used to be OUR front door, into what used to be OUR living room and OUR FUCKING DOG was so happy to see her he jumped all over her. But I saw it in her eyes, that something was not right. Immediately I said what I always said. I said the perfect fucking thing at the perfect time. I told her. Just tell me. Say it. I can take it. She told me she’s sorry. She’s in love with Troy. Are you fucking kidding me?
What is wrong with me? My first response was to hug her. I was the one who was getting his heart ripped out. And so, I hugged her. And then I felt sick in my stomach and I pulled away. I paced around MY living room. I put MY dog into his crate. I sat on MY couch. I still can’t stop shaking my head. Last month we were trying to have a baby. A real fucking baby. For us to raise and teach and guide into the future. Three nights ago, we went to dinner. I’ve been working 60 hours a fucking week, for the future only I cared about.
All I said was, “There is nothing I can say. I see that. I assume you’re going to go stay with your dad. You should do that as soon as possible.” As she walked out the front door, I said. “You can get your things while I’m at work tomorrow.”
And so ends another era. So ends two more years of a life that’s going by quicker than I care to admit. And I am just fucking beside myself with rage. All I taste is rancor. I’m too furious to cry. I won’t sleep one second tonight. I won’t sleep for days. I want to evacuate my dinner from my stomach. I want to rip my scalp clear off my fucking head. Do you have any idea how many times I held her together? I picked her up. This guy has my patience? He has my kindness? I don’t fucking think so.
I am sitting at a desk and my fingers can’t stop typing. I am dying at this desk. I am trying to say something I don’t know how to say. AND I KNOW HOW TO SAY EVERYTHING. My words are flawless. So, what the fuck? Why don’t I know the words I need and the order I need to put them into just reason my way out of this? What the fuck? It’s been twenty minutes. Soon it will be thirty. And after that, it will be forever. And I know myself well enough to know she is done in my life. I won’t ever forgive this. I won’t have coffee with her months from now for some kind of closure. I will stew in this. I will let my rage push me harder until I break. It may take months or a year but the break will come. Then I will wallow in it like I always do. I can’t stress this enough FUCK YOU!
How is it I let this happen? I fucking should have seen it coming. I am just not someone who gets blindsided by things like this. And all I can think is I was too invested in this idea of something that I was working towards to see it. I just want to fucking scream but I am too polite to bother the neighbors I share a wall with. And I feel like as soon as I run out of things to say it will really be over, so I keep typing trying to prolong the inevitable. And now the rage is subsiding and I want to cry. And the dog is howling because he is still in the crate. But I am not going to cry because FUCK YOU. And just like that, the rage is back but so what? I still have to be at work in ten hours. Am I going to just keep going until then? I could. I could write a fucking novel about my anger. I could fill a whole fucking flash drive one character at a time. And then what? I don’t know who I am at this moment. I was so sure of it 2 hours ago when I was waiting for her to come home. I was so sure who I’d be at the end of this year and the year after that. And now I know nothing which means I never knew a thing. FUCK YOU!
Not even a week ago I was writing about how my depression was back. Five hours ago, I was practically skipping on my way home from work I was so happy. Everything that was worrying me had fallen perfectly into place. Today I found out I got a raise for no reason. All my worries were gone. And now, here I am. How does this not destroy me? How do I not fall off all the wagons? Please someone come over with a bucket full of drugs and all the booze. Let me rage fuck you until I start to cry if I’m even able to anymore. Someone hold my head under the water for thirty minutes or until my brain shuts off. I need a handyman to come fix all the holes in the walls I plan to make. Can I borrow a sledgehammer and take it to all her stuff so when she comes and gets it in the morning it will be easier to carry? Someone, just please! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck me! FUCK
The Cerebral Sir 