Hope folds in on itself...
Like a cheap umbrella in a violent storm, the hope and happiness protecting me from the torrent of misery fold in and collapse. I am soaked by the reality and battered by its intensity. I keep trying new umbrellas, but they each fail in their time - some last longer than others, some not at all. I am left without protection and forced to stand in the downpour, the very picture of abject misery and neglect. I wonder if the rain will ever stop, realizing that it won't. I also wonder when the rain will have come down long enough to form a puddle, then a pool, and eventually a flood; a flood to wipe clean everything in its path and drown those unfit to survive. I believe I am one of those and am just waiting my turn.

I can understand...
I was thinking about death. I can understand why people would want to end their lives. I can see and feel the allure of the peace of death. I can appreciate the absolute freedom gained from knowing you are going to die - and soon. Paradoxically, it makes you invulnerable. Nothing can touch you - not stress, bills, IRS, failed relationships, work, regrets, failures in general, nothing. I can touch that freedom in my imagination, and that is where it will stay. I also happen to believe that death would soon become unpeaceful and would last forever. Whatever pain is felt now, here, in this temporal existence, is nothing compared to Hell. I know that the pain here is susceptible to influence as well. The smile of a child can dispel the demons of the IRS, at least for a time. The cry of a child's skinned knee can become of paramount importance, minimizing all other concerns, at least for a time.



Hope, happiness, death and being morose. They all surround me. The first two seem so fleeting, the next, unimaginable and the last an almost constant state. Why the flip? Why the change, when I'd been doing well? Despair, I think. It seems that no matter how hard I work, the further behind I get. I know it is a cliche, but it is painfully true. I cannot seem to escape the vicious cycles of my life. The one option that haunts me is not really an option, and I certainly won't be pursuing it. In fits of absurdity, I have a fantasy of losing everything material I have in some storm or such. What a pathetic fantasy and how much of a coward must I be to think like this.

I understand why she left me. She wanted to be free. She never wanted kids. She was tired of the responsibility of marriage, of my life (but remained committed to her kids). I too long for that freedom, I just don't know how to obtain it without betraying everything and everyone. I have fantasies of disappearing and starting over. Of going completely on a cash economy. I have even thought of trying to buy a new identity. All this is completely unworkable for someone like me. I have no marketable skills - those skills I do have require extensive background checking and licensing. I don't think I would survive. If I ever do disappear, look for foul play, as I am too much of a lazy bastard to do that type of thing. Besides, I would never voluntarily leave my kids and never have contact with them again - I couldn't stomach that much heartache and pain.

Why am I writing this? To exorcise the morose feelings that I have succumbed to in the last 18 hours. It helps to write it out and view how really silly your thinking can become when it is dragged down into a pit of self pity and despair. So I cast away these feelings and thoughts and look toward a brighter tomorrow - even if I cannot see it yet, it will come. Dawn always comes.

PS I can be so very histrionic when I write. Melodramatic. In all honesty, I think I am a melodramatic sort at times, even maudlin. I am hoping to lessen those times, but will my attempts at writing reflect that change? Only time will tell, like so many other things.