Secret husband. What can I do for you? I really wish you could be happy.
July 22nd, 2008Why do I write...
I imagine someone will care... No, I hope someone will care.
It's a purely narcissistic and futile exercise. I had two days of happiness finally in my life, and that's all I'll ever have. What I have to look forward to is the disappointment of an unromantic world shitting on my soul until my body fails and the last bit of hope and energy is released into nothingness.
I hate her... I hate her from the depths of my black and shriveled heart. She gave me comfort. She gave me security. She gave me hope. She made me believe the world wasn't a cruel joke. For a moment I thought there was a God. I thanked him for beating me in the head with a chair, for putting me through all the pain and misery that I had previously and preciously suffered, that I might meet her, the crazy married woman with pizza and ramen noodles.
I look back now and see how stupid I was. She had been hurt, and was looking for comfort, justification, justice. I was a tool, nothing more.
I knew it then, but at some point I forgot. At some point, I looked into her eyes and felt love, felt happiness. It wasn't love for me... She was everything I always needed. She was my mother. She was my equal. She was my child.
I wanted to marry her, but it was impossible... She already had a family... So I settled for fleeting moments... I lived my life, just as she had hers, and it was interesting and full because at the end of each day, I felt safe. I felt secure in the knowledge that at the end of each day, she felt safe and felt secure in the knowledge that at the end of each day, I felt safe, I felt secure in the knowledge that...
She was first. Above everything else. She still is...
I saw an episode of "My Name Is Earl" yesterday. He was in a coma, and while in his coma, he dreamt of a perfect life, married to the woman he was in love with. I saw them together, perfect and happy in cheesy cliche, and my heart ached.
I panicked the panic that only a soul can when it feels bliss slipping away forever. I sent her a message... :'(
I'm sick, but I don't care. I am in pain, but I don't care. I am alone, but I don't care. I have admirers, but I don't care. Words are trite, and this I care about, because no matter how many words I write, no matter how many things I paint, nothing can ever express the joy of the love I felt or the dull agony left in the pit of my stomache. The words are as removed and abstracted as watching a xerox of a photograph of a rainbow on a cathode-ray black and white television with bad reception.
She gave me a child. A beautiful sweet free child. A child of art and talent, tainted by the stink of materialism, but all children are. I loved the child too. We three played together, a family, unlike any other. I felt myself like a child again, five years old, with a bag on my head, playing hide and seek in a dark and warm home, full of mystery and comfort, safe and unknown, an unfathomable paradox in the adult mind.
I dreamt of our family, literally. I dreamt I married the child, and that mother would come and visit us, and we would play together forever. There was nothing sick or strange about it. My love for both was pure...
I told my giraffe, and she told me our baby had the same dream long ago... The ping of fate struck my soul... Is this real then!? Have I finally found my place!? Have I got a reason to go on? The excitement filled me like an overripe water balloon! Ecstasy, intrigue, safety, hope, all mine!
She told me our daughter was getting married, that our family would be broken, that I must hurry... I panicked and burst, emotions gushing out explosively in all directions, uncontrollable and with no direction. My daughter didn't understand, or understood all too well.
So we waited, waited for mother to return... to return and take everything away.
I hate her... I hate her from the depths of my black and shriveled heart. She gave me comfort. She gave me security. She gave me hope. She made me believe the world wasn't a cruel joke. But she abandoned me. She took away everything I always needed. She took away my mother. She took away my equal. She took away my child.
The last remnants of hope I had in the world are dying. It is the deepest and quietest pain I have ever felt. Every word I have told you was true, mama.
I am panic. I am fear. The world is perfectly known and utterly terrifying.
"What can I do for you? I really wish you could be happy."
I wish I could be happy too, secret wife. I wish we could be happy. Give me back my family.
:'(
