I’ve lost it again. I made the mistake of suppressing my emotions and forcing myself to be happy for others and as a result I have imploded. I don’t really know how it happened, or when it started but I know that I had to sleep all day yesterday and dreamt of awful things.
My partner couldn’t handle me so he left me in the house alone while he drank beer with his dad. I needed him and he left me… typical. So I slept. My body was worn out and I slept. I didn’t make him tea, or breakfast, or picked up his socks, scrubbed his kitchen floor or ironed his shirts. I slept. It was the best thing I could do for him, his alternative would be to not have me in his life at all to do any of these things.
He can’t seem to fend for himself anymore, he becomes a hopeless child eating dry crackers or nothing at all. Resenting me for not taking care of him when I need to be taken care of.
I’ve not felt so terrible in months, long before we got engaged, I was losing my grip on life and felt unwanted, as an unmarried spinster with no value at all to anybody. No decent wage to pay my way, a pathetic leech on his funds, I was ready to go and take my failure life with me to make his life better. I still feel a failure but at least I feel like a wanted failure with my solitaire diamond sparkling back at me from the third finger of my aging hand. He keeps me here now. I live for him now.
I can’t seem to clear my mind of the thoughts of what could’ve been, my silly hopes for my future that evaporated when I realised that I was incapable of achieving them, I was my own barrier to my success and I stood firmly planted in the ground, feet buried in cement when it was time to move forward. I failed myself and I make him suffer also.
They should have told me that I’d never make it, that I wouldn’t survive but they just kept telling me I could conquer the world, but the realities burned up in the acid in my stomach along with my medicine and with any hope of getting better.
I imagine my wedding day, I see run mascara and an ugly bride walking down the aisle to a make believe life in a pure white dress made of newspaper, as worthless as the the woman wearing it. She doesn’t make it to the altar, she gets swallowed by the black cloud that has followed her for 20 years.