Bottom of the Well

As I stand here in the desolate landscape of my heart and mind, I am struck with the all too familiar sound of silence.  A strong wind comes along and kicks up dust; obscuring the rigid mountain peaks in the distance, and turns the royal blue sky to an ugly shade of orange.

It hasn’t rained here for several years.  That is since the locusts came-sounding like 10,000 Apache helicopters on hot approach.  Don’t get me wrong.  Once in a blue moon, it will rain just long enough to turn the dust into a thick mud.  And by noon, the ground is as dry as a dead horse’s bones.

It seems like everything is prey for something.  I have seen rabbits eat their young just to survive.

Over yonder is a well.  Each day I wake up, I draw water from that well.  It’s the well of my emotions.  And each day, I lower the bucket down into the earth, hoping to find water-love.  But each day that passes, is another day that I have to drop the bucket deeper and deeper.  Some days, the water barely skims the bottom of the bucket.

I wonder: how long can I go on like this?  How much longer do I have?  How much longer do I have to wait before rain season comes and brings rejuvination to an otherwise forgotten heart?

A dollar bill flies bye my feet and shoots up into the air.  I catch it in mid-flight.  And smile at the irony.  Printed on the front are the words: Federal Reserve Note. 

It’s just a piece of paper.  Just a tiny piece, cut out from a slab of many other pieces with intricate designs and latin phrases.  Money printed from nothing.  Created from nothing.

My love is as counterfeit as the money in your pocket.  I am drawing off of nothing.
-Graveyard Night


This Fucking Hurts

Here I am, mired in emotional anguish.  Just got off the phone with my mom and she told me to go to a doctor and get put on some meds.  I tell you, I am this damn close to admitting myself to a psychiatric hospital.
I told her that meds don’t help.  There is no easy band aid for emotional pain.  No stitches, no staples, no glue.  Nothing.  Not a fucking thing!

Found out today that the other woman removed me from her friends list on Facebook.  After all the crooked shit I have done, this hurts the most.  It feels like I am fifteen all over again and lost my first girlfriend.  It feels like there is a gigantic hole in my chest where my once beating heart use to be.

My wife never listened to me.  But now she is ready to?   Too late.  I have taken back the heart I gave her and locked it away in a cluttered and cavernous vault.  I’m not even certain that I could find it.

I wish that could take hard rock music

Play it as loud as it will go

Drown out my thoughts

Drown out my sorrow

Now, I see why people get sucked into extramaraital affairs so easily.  They are looking for acceptance, if only for a little while; someone that isn’t going to nitpick every little thing they do wrong-someone to numb the pain.

-Graveyard Night

Affair is Over

I went to see the other woman last after work.  And I belive that in my last post, I said that she had told her mom that we had sex.  She said at the time that her mom wasn’t mad or anything.  I am pressed to believe that was a lie.

When her mom came walking up us, she introduced us and I said hello.  And while she didn’t cuss me out, her words were not kind.  She then told her daughter to head inside the house.  I was astounded at how quickly she abandoned me; no word in my defense-no saying, “but, mom.  I came onto him first.”

I was so flabbergasted that I didn’t say a word.  I simply got into my car and left.  From the mother’s words, I can gather that she had only heard part of the story; her daughter is an innocent girl, ‘in love’ with a married man who keeps dragging her along, and I am a piece of shit bastard.

You may be reading this and perhaps you are thinking the same thing.  I share your sentiment.

If I am right and the mom has only heard part of the story, then it’s just a repeat of my wife.  Too many times too numerous to count, my wife has told my family dirty stories about me.  I would walk in the door and immediately get caught up in a whirlwind of a royal ass chewing.  And in the middle of the firestorm, I would say, “now, wait a minute…”.  And the story would change in my favor.

Like I said on my previous blog, society looks down on a man that cheats.  It doesn’t matter one damn bit that perhaps his wife is a bitch and treats him like shit.  It doesn’t matter that she makes immasculating comments about him to his face and to others.  

Or, perhaps the man is like me.  For years, I have poured myself into my wife and children, and all I have gotten in return is condescension and cynicism.  For years, I have tried being a wife and husband, mother and father.  I’m still convinced that my wife was hoping that the ex con she tried to sell me out to would either beat my ass when I left for work at night, or kill me.

In short: I have felt like I have had a daughter and not a wife.

Like I said, in society, men are held to a higher standard when it comes to cheating.  But women…they’re treated with more leniency, and some view it as sexy.  Pastors will stand on a pulpit and beat the living hell out of men, but women skate right on by.

If a married man cheats, it’s all his fault.  Never mind how he is treated at hom.  Never mind the woman that seduced him.  He is the scum of the earth.  If it was her intent for her mom to go off on me like that, then her mission was accomplished.  If it was her plan to make me feel like scum-consider it mission accomplished.

I’m tired of this shit.  I’m tired of not being happy.  I’m tired of not having a moments peace of mind.  I’m tired of living.

I don’t think that I have ever felt so low.

-Graveyard Night

A Hundred Foot Hole in My Heart

My wife and I have never had what you would call a “nourishing or fulfilling” relationship.  It has been contentious and volatile.

In my previous post, I wrote about a woman at work that had a crush on me.  I went into it headlong and with my guard down.  What started out as flirtatious conversations, went to sex talk, to nude pics, then kissing, and then sex.  I will write about that night earlier this week at a later date.

It wasn’t long into our talking that she tried to prompt me to leave my wife and kids.  After many times of trying to explain to her that it isn’t as easy as one can make it sound, I soon became exhausted of it.  At times, I thought that I was free of her-could withstand her advances-but now I see how easily one can get sucked into an adulterous affair.

Today, she told me that she was cutting me loose; that she realizes that I am not going to leave my wife and kids.  No more kissing, hugs, pics or sex.  Probably for the better, but it feels like I have a hundred foot sink-hole in the middle of my heart.

The depression has returned, and with it, the nagging questions of what is the point of living?  Tonight, I went to the store, and was so tempted to leave the car and walk.

Where is Mark and Nikki of Sluts and Soulmates when you need them?

-Graveyard Night