A recent dream I had threw me back into reminiscence of my worst moment...
There have been many
Bad moments...
Some where death was just millimeters away from happening...
There were 25 years of physical agony...
No shortage of anxiety and depression...
No shortage of people fucking with my fucked up head...
This, that, the other...
Yadda, yadda, yadda...
I'm feeling sorry for myself,
Yeah;
Though I'm not asking for pity...
But, although my being in Texas with her
was basically me running away from my problems
in Connecticut,
The worst moment of my life
Was when she
Point blank
Told me, monotone and deadpan,
That she had stopped loving me...
That one, single moment
Crushed me...
It's when I lost my soul...
Or
That's how it felt...
Straight forward, black and white...
Worse than her waning passion...
Worse than waking up from that nine day coma back in 2014...
Waking up from that, seeing her face, was one of the best moments...
I was alive, and I could spend the rest of my life
With her...
Or so I thought at that moment in time...
I had my ups and downs...
But what I felt for her was constant...
Until I found out it was not reciprocal...
Life still sometimes feels like some nightmarish phantasm...
A continuous fever dream...
On the surface,
There were many rationalizations I tried to make
To make it make sense...
Parts of me wishing
That everything since almost dying
Was just my mind wandering
While my body still lay in a coma,
On life support,
In a cold hospital ICU...
The cynical side of me
Believed it was because I couldn't provide,
For a short time,
Because of the hole in my chest...
(Literally,
I had an ostomy bag attached to me for about two months -
Not sanitary for a high stress food service job...)
She thought she had to sell all her gold...
Metaphorically and in reality...
The empath and optimist in me
Tried to believe that my near death
Scared her so much that she didn't want to
Have to face that terror
Ever again,
And shut down her emotions...
Go on, you're free!!!
Get outta here!!!
Her way of throwing rocks
At White Fang
So he would go back to the wild...
Then back to the cynic...
Maybe she truly believed that I caused her sister
To have that heart attack...
That I was responsible for her dying,
Scared and alone...
As if I could snuff out a life hundreds of miles away
With a word...
Maybe she believed I had no soul...
Maybe she believed I only cared about me...
Maybe she actually saw me as
A murderer of sorts...
Maybe it was how I sat
Stunned
At my computer
When I heard the news
As she cried
And did not comfort her
Or embrace her...
But she had long ago started to
Move away from me
If I tried to be physically near her,
Seemed repulsed by my touch,
Why would she want me to touch her now?
I ran all these thoughts,
And more,
Through my mind,
Trying to understand,
When she matter-of-factly stated she had stopped loving me...
Even when she told me she wished
I had died that night when my small intestine perforated,
And the sepsis stopped my breath,
Code blue...
When the inflammation of my organs pushed my heart
Several inches to the left...
Those words didn't hurt nearly as much as knowing that I had lost her...
Lost her love...
Lost her respect...
Became just another shitty ex-husband of hers that she would retell the horrors
Of enduring to any ear that would listen...
Anything else she said about me no longer mattered...
Two more ex-wives for me in a matter of 3 years
Trying to get over Weedon Scott throwing rocks at White Fang...
Emotional disasters,
Two more divorces in a matter of three and a half years,
That I now have little to no feeling for through the numb...
An old friend tried to talk sense into me by the third marriage,
but I responded poorly, cruel and self-righteously...
They were just alcohol to an alcoholic...
Heroine for a junkie...
Just me self-medicating what felt like the loss of my soul,
If indeed I ever had one...
I may as well have been raised by wolves...
Half human,
Half wild animal...
And mother nature seems to have no conscience...
Nature just survives...
Does horrible things to do so...
Causes mass extinctions when it fucks up...
The rise of plants that give us the oxygen we need to survive
Nearly killed off every other living thing that existed before them...
Nearly...
So,
Organic life on Earth is cruel...
Imperfect...
It is cold-hearted...
Competitive and bloodthirsty,
(Even when it only needs sun and earth and water to grow...)
And its mistakes often cause global catastrophes...
Where is the perfection that optimists try to say is in,
For instance,
The beauty of a sunrise?
That sun that will one day expand and incinerate this blue green orb?
I soldier on...
One day I'll go back home to the North-East...
Try to forget...
Laugh with old friends and family by a bonfire
Or a pot-bellied stove
While the snow piles up outside...
One day my ashes will be spread over the rolling hills of my birth place...
One day,
Hopefully,
Far in the distant future,
I will close my eyes
And sleep that forever sleep
After finally understanding what peace means
A moment before my energy is recycled,
And that dark curtain falls...
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