I had a wonderful, caring wife at the same time I had a
smart, arrogant girlfriend. My wife was caring, attentive, and thought I walked
on water. My girlfriend is the complete opposite. Her needs come first and
foremost. I did all the wrong things and said all the wrong things at exactly
the wrong time.
My wife and I met when we were both fairly young, she was
18, I was 22. I thought I would eventually take over the world. She thought she
could save the world. I didn’t care to save the world. The world had caused me
plenty of pain so my main concern was to destroy the world…eventually.
My wife came from a broken home, but her mother had done
everything in her power to give both my wife and her sister a stable, proper
upbringing. My parents did the exact opposite. As far as my parents saw it, as
long as we were not homeless or hungry, they had served their duties as
parents. Physical and psychological abuse was as common practice to me as juice
box were to my loving wife’s childhood. My parents worked hard and even to this
day have absolutely nothing to show for it. Unfortunately, for me, I am no
different.
I have reached the point in my life, where I sit in
retrospect, and feel it has been a wasted existence. My wife is now my ex-wife.
My girlfriend is hardly ever around and when she is she’s too busy trying to
take over the world. I spend the majority of my days praying for death, and if
not death, at least memory loss. Neither have come.
My ex-wife is now, as she puts it, “finally happy”, after 15
years of knowing me, 13 of which were spent married to me. You can imagine how
well my heart took that news.
My wife is at work, making her six-digit salary, making
plans for world domination and attempting to decide whether I’m more trouble
than I’m worth. My brother is with his family making his mark in this world and
attempting to keep his head above water. My friends are all telling me the
same, “this too shall pass”. However, they fail to understand that although a
broken heart needs time to heal, the soul never fully recovers.
I spent my childhood trying to stay out of reach of my
parents ever present disciplinary actions. My mother had six children. Raising
children is not an easy task. Raising six children without a higher education,
on the salary of a housekeeper is damn near impossible. Somehow my mother
managed, but it would eventually cost her her life. My mother died at the early
age of 56. I have yet to recover from her loss. My father is a man who never
fully understood the concept of affection. I never received a hug from my
father during my childhood. I would only hear him say “I love you” once in my
lifetime and that was the day of my mother’s burial service.
My wife would eventually introduce me to the concept of a
loving hug and the words “I love you”, which were so unknown to me. My wife
introduced me to a stable home, a loving mother, and the positive belief that
the future held nothing but good in it. To this day, I still argue the latter.
The future is not a positive thing. I believe all people will fail you, all you
need to do is give them enough time.
To this day, I have attempted to kill myself over ten times.
Depending on where you stand, this is a fortunate thing. From where I stand, it
is extremely unfortunately. I have outlived my usefulness. I firmly believe
that. My ex-wife has moved on. She has become a strong, independent woman
facing the world with a “bring it on” attitude that even I dare not to
challenge. My father calls only when he needs something. My girlfriend only
cares for me when she needs affection or physical satisfaction. My friends
remind me that they would suffer should I ever succeed in killing myself. My
brother has limited knowledge of the pain I suffer. My mother is dead. I barely
care enough to wake up every morning and face the day. I pray every day for my
death. For reasons unknown to me, God has decided he will not accept my
suicide. Again, that either a good thing or a bad thing depending on where you
stand.
The moment I open my eyes I curse God for allowing me to
face yet another day. How can I believe in a God that allows me to face nothing
but pain and angst for yet another day? I have no children. I was pregnant
once, but due to my financial situation and my age, I choose an abortion. One
of many regrets in my life. I was raised under the Roman Catholic religion, so
since I have already taken a life, it does not matter what I do from this point
forth, I’m going straight to hell. You would think with this knowledge, I would
be capable to simply pull the trigger and get it all over with, but alas, I am
a certified coward. My life is spent these days under a drunken stupor, missing
my previous life, and crying. I have cried more in the last three months than I
have in the last thirty years. During my turbulent childhood, I learn to master
pain and my reaction to it. My mother…and please keep in mind, I love my mother
dearly and dare anyone to say anything negative about her…was extremely
abusive. She damn near beat me to death on day simply because my older sibling
stole the rent money and blamed it on me. She never asked me if I took the
money, she simply started beating the hell out of me and stopped only when
exhaustion had gotten the best of her. And, still, I loved her the most.
I am surprised to wake up every morning. I detest people
that simply take up space on this planet, and right now, I have become one of
those people. I do nothing all day long but regret being born. I sit in the
background and watch/hear of people who have passed away…people who are productive
and who have a good heart, and their lives are cut short. And, here I am, years
and years later, praying for death, but nothing happens. Me, attempting to kill
myself on a regular basis, and somehow still managing to pull through this
attempts. I care not for the aged, the unfortunately mentally challenged, or
the weak. I believed in justice, doing what is right regardless of personal
cost, and in equality. I do not believe that simply because you are “mentally
challenged” that you deserve special treatment. That’s my ex-wife’s belief. She
believes in taking care of the weak and unfortunate. I believe in helping those
that help themselves. Why would God keep me around when I do not care of his
children? Why would God simply allow me to wake up every morning when all I
think about it burning the world down and harming certain people in my wife’s
life? I have absolutely no idea.
I want to believe in good, but God has truly not given me a
whole lot to work with in my life. I grew up basically poor. I had two parents
that couldn’t careless what I felt as long as I was fed and housed. I endured
over seven years of sexual abuse from my step brother. I fell in love and
eventually lost the love of a good woman. I have been terminated from more jobs
than I can count. And I barely have a penny to my name. Yes, God is good, but
not to me.
At this point, I would like to explain my girlfriend. She’s
smart…brilliant actually, but meaner than a rattlesnake. She says what she
thinks and thus few people can tolerate being in the same room she is in. I
know one thing for sure about her, she loves me. The sad part is I will not
allow myself to love her back with the same intensity I once loved my wife. My
wife broke my heart, more than once, I will not allow another living being that
power. My girlfriend is determined to make her millions…regardless of what it
cost her…family, friends, or love. I have done everything I can think of to do
things different with her, but I know understand and her and I are too much
alike to have a sound future.
It doesn’t matter
what I do from here on out. I cannot think of one simple moment in my life
where I have been truly happy…not one. I tolerate mankind. I dislike people
simply because I can. I detest the weak and yet I will not allow anyone to
abuse anyone before me. I grew up with the belief that gay people were
“creatures” not people. I grew up knowing that if I ever expected to be myself
I would have to cut myself off from my family. My family was and still is a
joke. To call my brethren a family is an insult to the concept of a love and
nurturing. I laugh at the sight of
seeing parents hug their children and tell them that they love them. I mock
Norman Rockwell and his familiar paintings. Parents do not love their children;
they tolerate them for eighteen years. They bore a staff to help around the
house and tend to matters that they, as parents, do not have time or desire to
tend.
I have recently reached the conclusion that no matter whom
it is in your life, at some point in your life, they will disappoint you. I
have had many good people in my life, but unfortunately, they have all let me
down at some point in my life. I say this because I gave my soul to my wife. I
gave her all I had to give another living soul. I love my wife and I have made
it a point to inform her of this matter without hesitation. I made the mistake
of trusting one living being with all that I had to offer another living being.
I love her unconditionally. Even now, if she were to ask for the moon, I’d move
every mountain on this planet to reach it for her. And I say all this knowing
that she is not the person I met so long ago. I say this knowing that I no
longer hold the place in her heart I once held and that she still holds in
mine. Everyone tells me the same thing, “..let it go…get over it…it will be
okay.” The truth of the matter is some of us are not designed to endure
personal loss. Not all of us are strong enough to walk away from their heart’s
desire. I have tried all in my power to walk away from my ex-wife and I admit,
I am simply too weak to do so. I see her everywhere I go. I hear her voice in
the middle of the day when I am all alone. I hear her voice saying, “be strong,
you’ll be fine, but understand, I am happy now…without you.”
I turn to friends and family in the hopes that maybe one
will know how to make the pain go away. I turn to my girlfriend in the hopes
that she can put her own needs aside for one day and provide me with comfort. I
turn to my brother in the hopes that his own personal experience with a broken
heart will aid me in understanding and coping with my heartache. I turn to best
friends only to find out they have known all along the path my marriage was
undertaking long before I did.
When I turned and walked away from my wife, I said, “I’m not
happy here with you anymore.” What I meant was “I love you more than life
itself and can never survive without you in my life. Comfort me. Love me. Hold
me as I mourn the loss of my mother. Be my foundation as I fall apart before
you.”
When I told my girlfriend, “I don’t want to be here
anymore,” I meant, “I hurt. The very being of my soul hurts and the only out I
see it one that will damn my soul for eternity. Help me. Help me get through
all the losses in my life including the loss of my mother, the end of my
marriage, and the despair I feel in the very core of my soul.”
I have cried myself to sleep many a nights these days, lying
next to someone who claims to care. However, she can easily sleep soundly
through the night with my sobs serving as a melody which to slumber to.
When I answer my brother’s question of “how are you,” with
“I’m doing well”, I mean, “I’m lost, little brother. I’m lost beyond redemption
or absolution.”
When I cry out to God to “make it stop,” I meant “please
help me, guide me along a path of understanding and compassion for those I’ve
hurt and please help me through this pain as I cannot handle it on my own.”
When friends think you may be suicidal, they will all tell
you the same line in one form or another, “…what about me? Have you stopped to
think what I will go through? You’re just being selfish. Killing yourself will
only harm those around you.” However, not once, do they stop to think how much
pain you may be in to see this as the only means to end the suffering and pain.
Not once do they take the time to help with anything other than words.
I need no more words. I need no more forgiveness. I need no
more understanding. I need a reprieve that does not exist. I need memory loss
that will not come. I need tranquility of which I have sought my entire life
and never found. I need arms to hold me. I need a heart that will protect me
from the world; a heart that will shelter me from my own personal destruction.
I love many people in my life; friend, family, and foe alike.
I could not have handpicked better friends than the ones I have. I could not
have loved a more beautiful human being than the woman I married. I could not
have found a better provider than my girlfriend. But what does it mean to be
surrounded by all these peoples, when my heart no longer dares to dream of
tomorrow? For me, life has reached that point where it has become a burden to
endure on a daily basis. The ability to breathe has become a curse. The sound
of my heart beating in my chest is a daily reminder that I have failed yet
again at ripping it out. If one possesses a limit of tears, I have not found
it, but my tears know no limit. I gladly traded this life for oblivion. My time
here is of no use to anyone, much less myself. I am done.
