Hell: Day 1

I feel like I'm dying.  A slow death, where I'm slowly sinking below the dark waters.  I can't breathe.  Already I'm struggling to keep my head above the surface.  The water is always something that provided comfort for me, now its going to be my demise, and I know it and realize there is nothing I can do to prevent it.  My heart is drowning in its own tears, a much more powerful death  Truly bringing about its own destruction through its own actions, and unable to stop.  It won't get any easier not as long as you continue this charade with her.  It will only get tougher.  I will only suffer more.  I will only learn to hide my pain (thus appear stronger) more effectively to prevent you from suffering with me.  I must protect you from what it is I feel, from what your actions with her are doing to me, costing me.....the destruction its ravaging on my soul.

I'm tucking in now, my Nyquil and Valium have kicked in and God willing there will be no dreams tonight.  For good measure I've got my vodka on hand for a quick swallow before closing my eyes.  You aren't here, or there, or anywhere to save me now from my own darkest fears.  For the next two weeks, I'm utterly alone. 

Visit: Day 2

You're here.  I haven't had the opportunity to write, which has been absolutely perfect by me.  Couldn't ask for a better excuse to find a lack of time to put virtual pen to paper.  However, you're here and I'm now on this fucking thing writing.  Clearly there has to be a reason for it, and of course there is.  At this moment you're sitting on the floor, Koa dog besides you, within feet of my bed.  You're typing a letter to your ex.  I should be happy I know.  You're doing what needs to be done to keep your cover up, and protect this terribly fragile relationship we have.  In fact, I'm assisting you in the letter, making sure your timeline, dates and departure times (fabricated of course) are correct.  Once again, my heart is being destroyed, and I have to somehow find a way to hide 99% of what this does to me from my eyes.  You read me like a book, a trait I love...a trait that means the world to me - it also means I can't hide shit from you.  You can't know, not right now, what this is like for me.  What would it matter anyway?  There are two outcomes....you leaving, or nothing at all being different....aside from perhaps you hiding more from me than you already do.  Neither of those outcomes are acceptable, so instead I just play the stoic role.  Yay for fucking me.

I don't even feel like I can vent properly, I know if I get too wrapped up in this you'll know.  As it is you just called me out on my blogging, so for now I'm going to put this on pause and pick it up in a short while.