I’m a normal man in so many ways. I’m never ordinary but what makes me unique isn’t worth envy.

My problems are so far beyond skin deep and poke through the surface all over; it’s all I can do to hide it from the world around me. I’m alone and probably always will be. I discover that giving to another is the only time I feel like I have a reason that can’t be denied or argued. This is a hole made of the bleak and the dark that I’m falling in and it’s such a slow descent that I may never reach the bottom.

But hovering just above seems to make me less deserving of sanity… My remorse is fading. My heart is wilting. My conscience requires a jump-start. My love and my pain are blending together in my memories. Memories I don’t want anymore. A life I can’t want anymore.

This is the reason for which you attribute me the word pride. I wish that it were true, for you mistake my sorrow as pride.

If I could stand between the lines and await my fate, I certainly would. I would equally fall as free as a bird or stain my entire world red. But this pain is mine, not yours. This pain belongs to me because I am deserving. I am the only one who can survive it.

This pain blinds you, as it does me, so you fail to see the truth behind the mystery.

I do not accept this miserable fate as a glutton or masochist, I accept this pain as a savior and a blessing. The action of moving on is not difficult, nor unappealing, it is simply not the evil that I want.

Colors all seem gray and love is more something said, but it wasn’t always this way. I am the ant atop the hill surrounded by the shadow of a magnifying glass. The heat grows the more I run, the fear builds as I cannot hide. More and more I’m lost in this word pride.

But to burn alive at the hands of the spiteful and misguided child is my burden to bare. It is my salvation and redemption, it is about the only thing for which I truly care.

That you cannot see doesn’t surprise me, only that you speak to condemn me.

I could end it all tonight. But this pain is mine, not yours. This pain belongs to me because I am deserving. I am the only one who can survive it. You are not me and I am not you, but you are not you and I am not free.

It is all I can do, all I can ever be, I must save her this pain, I must save her.

Alone I am free, but together I am your pain. This I will not be.

The problem has always been spending the effort to figure any of it out.

As honest as I am 99% of the time, there is still that one percent in which I lie, withhold, and allow myself to be oblivious to a certain many things. That one percent is usually reserved for myself.

I’ve spent years being selfish, taking what I wanted only when I wanted it. Sending mixed messages to everyone around me who mattered and confusing them on such a simple matter…do I even care?

I’ve known, and loudly contended at times, that I always have cared for those people. Even when faced with the evidence of my own actions contradicting those words I would hold tightly onto them. I never once lied about caring, about loving, or about wanting more.

I only neglected to mention the correct levels of my feelings to those inquiring.

I had a spark of sheer integrity when I was about 20 years old, and it kills me to this day that I had to develop and follow through with it only by moving on before I was free to do so. I gave up a life for the well-being of another that I cared about. Someone who I knew felt the same way I did but with a far deeper sense of loyalty.

Who knows for sure how long it would have lasted had I not ended it. I fear for her sake that it could have lasted the remainder of our lives.

My biggest test of self was in marriage and family. My biggest failure in life was in my marriage and family. And no wound burns so badly each night as that very undeniable fact.

Could it have been different? Absolutely. That’s not where my mind starts to swirl. It’s often said that if you aren’t finding the answers you need to deal, cope, or simply move forward then you just aren’t asking the right questions. Could it have ended any differently? I’ve fought the answer to that question for years now, even since before that end actually played itself out, but I think I’ve finally got a grasp on that answer and what it means.

I could have been the perfect husband and father, completely devoted and without an ounce of selfish desire. I could have been straight from the minds of the greatest poets in history and practiced all of the wisdom of the highest valued marriage advice. I could have been everything she wanted and it still wouldn’t haven’t ended any differently.

She still would have left, taking the very core of my heart away from me and running to South Texas with it. She would still stonewall me and act as if I don’t exist. She would still try her damnedest to erase any memories of me from my daughters mind. And she would still lie to me about the real activities she was involved in while we were married.

Even after the divorce has been finalized she won’t fess up to cheating, to lying, to giving up…

It makes me recall how we met and the turmoil that seemed to appear wherever we were. The lies, the games, the omissions and twisted versions of reality that often seared through the walls of our first apartment and into our neighbors living rooms. I should have known long before that it was a mistake to be anywhere near her, but calling the fire department when she faked passing out in the shower should have been the red flag I heeded.

I wanted to believe she was a better person than that. Bloodying her own nose and blaming me for it, saying I hit her…did she really think I didn’t know when my body made contact with another?

It’s the future that has me thinking about her character. Wondering if she’s changed my daughter’s last name because of her own ill feelings towards me for not giving up. I didn’t give up when we were married, I didn’t give up during a 90 day separation, I didn’t even give up after we went to court for the first time as much as it disappointed her.

I’m not delusional. I don’t think I was perfect. I didn’t say the right things or do the right things. I didn’t spend enough time with either of them; but I never gave up. I married a woman who I cared for only as a friend, albeit a fwb.

I resented her for a long while after we split because of how she moved on, but it took until recently for me to realize that I didn’t resent her for living without me…I was over her quickly myself. What I resented was how she was able to remain happy through it all. She had our daughter there with her.

I just had purgatory to endure.

I still do.

But now I’ve started being much more honest with myself. I had a four-month fling that ended in February of this year. The woman was a great one that I never wanted to hurt, but sadly I wouldn’t admit that I wasn’t in any shape for a relationship. I might not be still.

The only person I want now is my daughter. She is the only human contact I need. My heart aches in her absence and there is no hope of relief coming any time soon.

That lack of hope is new, though. It’s just occurred to me that I have been looking for a connection worthy of filling in for her. Granted, it’s been in totally different meanings but while I can’t be near the one I want, I’ve been looking for another one to be near.

The thought of that kills me. I don’t want my friends for any other reason. I tire of interacting with them quickly after making contact. I find it easy to permanently blow off a friend of 16 years for missing a couple of text messages and a phone call. I find flaws in people I meet and use those to disregard them, again causing myself to lose interest.

I’ve been a loner all my life and not once have I ever felt so alone. Not even the day my ex and my daughter left 375 days ago. Not even when I put a blade to my skin…I was drunk and building up some adrenaline for the cut I wanted to make most.

But I want to be a little less odd anymore. I want some modicum of normalcy in my life. I want to want friends because I can still enjoy a night out, but don’t want that to also be a loner activity. I want to get in my truck and have a place to go, even as much as I crave just soaring the highways at night with nothing but some music and the sound of my own exhaust trailing behind me.

I want a companion, someone to talk to and share with and laugh with. I want someone to explain to me what I probably already know…why I am so desperate to engrave any part of my daughter into my appearance. A bracelet she liked, a necklace with blocks spelling her name on it, a tattoo of that necklace as a bracelet, her pictures surrounding my computer and on my cell phone desktop, the clay plate my ex helped her make for my father’s day two years ago with her shaken hand print cast into its face.

Or why I’m changing my appearance lately. A hair cut I’ve never liked. Wearing shorts everywhere, and a backwards cap. Why I’ve been having dreams of an increasingly violent struggle to visit my daughter on an agreed upon and arranged visit. I’ve started throwing pillows and things on my bedside table in my sleep because of it.

But most of all I want someone to explain to me why I want nothing else in life but to see my daughter again…

It’s a feeling I understand better than I ever dreamed I would, but one too impractical to live solely with.

Even now I don’t know exactly what it means or how it would apply to me, not fully, but I have a better idea of it now than ever before.

Looking through articles and such on the web, I found one that stole my attention. It’s got a lot of truth in it for me personally, though I also wonder how this article worked for its author at home. I’m going to post the whole thing here since it’s more than four years old, but if the author finds this, just let me know via comments if you want it taken down.

Do I love my wife? It’s a complicated question. What is love? Perhaps it is an ineffable aspect of the human condition that can never be fully understood. It’s like asking if I love my car or my golf clubs. I love them, but it’s not like I love them. I certainly love owning them, and if either should ever be stolen, or somehow ruined, or damaged by someone’s incompetence, I’d want to replace them immediately, and press full charges against the perpetrators.

I love the stability of my wife. I like knowing that she’s there, sort of like how you feel about a good life-insurance policy or new luxury storm windows in the den. It’s like having the high-end weed-whacker in the garage. It’s good to see it and know it’s there, even if I don’t use it more than twice a year. My wife is like that. I love that about her.

It’s reassuring to have the whole “wife” aspect of my lifestyle taken care of and done with, and know that it’s not going to be disrupted. So in that sense, yes, I love her, but I suppose you could say I love the idea of her, as a concept, mainly, more than her specifically. But it’s a good question, to be sure. It makes you think.

I enjoy life. You might even say I love it. And since my wife, or the idea of my wife, anyway, is part of that life, that’s not going to change.

On the one hand, of course I love her. Don’t get me wrong—we’re talking about my wife. This is the mother of my children, the woman I plan to grow old with, the woman for whom I purchased a fine and beautiful home. But then again, if she happened to be some other, similar woman, it probably wouldn’t be that much different. We’d still live in the same type of neighborhood, own the same cars, and have the same children. Well, they’d be genetically different children by 50 percent, but they’d probably serve basically the same function in my life.

She’d probably spend about the same amount of my income on largely the same things, and I assume we’d still attend the same parties and go to the same country club. I suppose it’s possible we might have different hobbies. But we’d have the same holidays, certainly. I know we’d have the same attorney. She’d definitely have the same hair.

It’s an eternal question, this mystery of “What is love, after all?” I can say this much: I can’t imagine being without her, or someone like her. She’s the person I’ve shared my life with. I’d really hate to lose her in some sort of a hypothetical divorce or unexpected-death scenario. That would be a living nightmare to deal with. If that counts as love, then yes, I love my wife very deeply.

I’ve been with my wife for more than 20 years. That’s a lot of time to put into a long-term investment.

I’ve grown used to her. I’m comfortable with her. Frankly, I’d be lost without her. But I guess I’d feel that way about pretty much anybody who was from the same age group, economic tier, and level of education, and who I happened to marry 20-odd years ago, back when it was time to acquire a wife.

If she died, would I miss her? Certainly. Do I appreciate her presence in my home? Without a doubt. Is she the most important person in my life? In a way. But if she were to somehow magically disappear and be replaced one day by a near-duplicate, would that matter all that much to me? I’d have to say no.

I Love The Idea Of My Wife -
Originally found on The Onion – America’s Finest News Source, written by Bryce W. Brant on Feb. 1, 2006.

That article is just a hoot to me. I can’t believe someone would actually post that, but then I don’t think I’ve experienced the freedom to admit such things in a relationship, either. Just felt this was relevant…

This is the reason for which you attribute me the word pride. I wish that it were true, for you mistake my sorrow as pride.

If I could stand between the lines and await my fate, I certainly would. I would equally fall as free as a bird or stain my entire world red. But this pain is mine, not yours. This pain belongs to me because I am deserving. I am the only one who can survive it.

This pain blinds you, as it does me, so you fail to see the truth behind the mystery.

I do not accept this miserable fate as a glutton or masochist, I accept this pain as a savior and a blessing. The action of moving on is not difficult, nor unappealing, it is simply not the evil that I want.

Colors all seem gray and love is more something said, but it wasn’t always this way. I am the ant atop the hill surrounded by the shadow of a magnifying glass. The heat grows the more I run, the fear builds as I cannot hide. More and more I’m lost in this word pride.

But to burn alive at the hands of the spiteful and misguided child is my burden to bare. It is my salvation and redemption, it is about the only thing for which I truly care.

That you cannot see doesn’t surprise me, only that you speak to condemn me.

I could end it all tonight. But this pain is mine, not yours. This pain belongs to me because I am deserving. I am the only one who can survive it. You are not me and I am not you, but you are not you and I am not free.

It is all I can do, all I can ever be, I must save her this pain, I must save her.

Alone I am free, but together I am your pain. This I will not be.

the magic in you

Colors never seemed so grey

Not until that day

My whole world in your hands

In your hands I melt away

The colors of magic in you

That magic in you …

I feel it coming down
I feel it all around
It’s not like I can go away
Not like I can forget the sound
But it penetrates me most
When I finally find some hope
When I take a look inside
And I find a reason why

I can’t seem to outlive it, my past, my self, these little fits
I’m amazed I ever made it this far
Filled with hate, my bitter scars, petulance flees my sour heart
It’s almost like I buried you, afraid I don’t know where to start

I feel it coming down
I feel it all around
It’s not like I can go away
Not like I can forget the sound
But it penetrates me most
When I finally find some hope
When I take a look inside
And I find a reason why

But then you say the hardest part, words that pierce right through my heart
Where you at, don’t leave me here, why aren’t you here
I fall away like I’ve lost it all, my tears run down my face
I feel it coming down, but I’m lost in the crowd

I feel it coming down
I feel it all around
It’s not like I can go away
Not like I can forget the sound
But it penetrates me most
When I finally find some hope
When I take a look inside
And I find a reason why

I feel it coming down
I feel it all around
I feel it coming down
I feel you all around

I feel it coming down
I feel it all around
It’s not like I can go away
Not like I can forget the sound
But it penetrates me most
When I finally find some hope
When I take a look inside
And I find a reason why

I feel you all around, I’m lost in the clouds, I feel you all around, I can feel you

Colors in the sky I see, a failure that burdens me
It’s almost like an addiction, so much like an affliction
Troubles come and problems go, I feel it when the wind blows
But I don’t hang my head low, I just keep reaching out for you
Beautiful and miserable, the melodic sound of agony
Crazy days in this chaotic world, it almost gets the best of me

And I almost gave up, almost let you down
I play this here song, trying to turn this thing around
And it all makes some sense, even if I don’t want it to
All because of you, I know just what I have to do
This disease is killing me, But I’ve got to carry you … for tomorrow

It’s all mixed up, kicking down these doors
A stranger inside of me, the mirror tells all my lies
I nearly picked it up, I could have set it back down
It follows me through my days, I’m afraid to turn around

And I almost gave up, almost let you down
I play this here song, trying to turn this thing around
And it all makes some sense, even if I don’t want it to
All because of you, I know just what I have to do
This disease is killing me, But I’ve got to carry you … for tomorrow

The more I see the more I cry, try to hide that I’m terrified
And it all seems to go away, leaving me empty inside
Go away I want it to, but I don’t want to miss a thing
There’s a game in this I try to fight, but you are my everything

And I almost gave up, almost let you down
I play this here song, trying to turn this thing around
And it all makes some sense, even if I don’t want it to
All because of you, I know just what I have to do
This disease is killing me, But I’ve got to carry you … for tomorrow

I’ll follow my instincts on this one, hoping for the best, but when the sun sets and the day is done, what will it be that I lay to rest. If not the memory then maybe the pain, or for the sake of mediocrity I’ll just lose the ability to sustain. Perhaps this journey will be a fruitless one, but in my eyes it could be so much more, like the end to an evening romance, I too shall soon be behind that fateful door.

Until the rise of my talent I will never know the meaning, and will spend great lengths of time trying to figure out which way I’m leaning. Too far one way will damn me for the other, while the opposite will be exactly the same, and the middle too tough to tame. Each step in a new direction is only a delay to my arrival, but procrastination has its purpose, although acutely trivial.

Now it occurs to me that I am not fulfilling a purpose here, only meandering through the meadows of the void I always fear. Creating more of the same to release what I cannot hold, and I’ll never be so bold as to do it without being told. The assonance is running thin and my thoughts are fading out, I won’t last much longer without some sign of doubt.

You see the answer to my troubles is one I already know, but until it becomes a mystery I will forever chase this misery. It is all that remains in the absence of destiny, and in fate comes the irony of knowing nothing but the chance to be. Still I’ll complete my journey down the path before me, and hope for an end to change all that I see. For now it is drawing nearer, and not even I can do anything to haste its landing.

Oh my God, the swirls of colors surround me, or maybe that’s just the little white pill dissolving within me. Either way the outcome remains, I cannot be an end to what I cannot begin.

As if it were not normal, I am constrained within my own self-inclusive imagination. Fits of passion try to escape but are held within for the sake of integrity and virtue. Perhaps my dreams are not to be realized, only feared and desired until I have become too withdrawn to know any better. Alas, better I do know and to understand it is my ultimate goal.

My efforts persist in this short fall, while my aspirations perpetually ascend beyond reach, thus solidifying my hopeless war on the fundamental tyranny of all that surrounds me. And when the morrow begins, I shall not be free of this pain, only saturated in it until I explode into a million pieces of unbridled fury that will not allow itself to be contained.

The feelings overwhelm me without release, while I resist the urge to take that which I’m craving, I sustain my contempt of modern society and ridiculous ideologies of conformity and unity. True unity wouldn’t be so hard to find amidst the peoples of our world, how could we be so naïve to believe that we are what we preach, without even bothering to examine ourselves for some glint of truth. For the truth in our lies is simple, and it will surely become what we will not accept, unless we begin a process of learning and forget the things to which we cling for sanity and survival.

I will not be here when you finally open your eyes, and if what you see disturbs you, then return to your hideaway until another sun emerges, as this one is ours, and this one is unforgiving. This sun brings the hope of a new day without ever warranting evidence of such ludicrous fixations.

If only time would collapse now, all would end regretfully and without praise, for we shall not be given what we do not deserve. But in our days end we will witness the fall such facades of delusive behaviors and reclusive technologies, and we will know, that without conviction and sense of duplicity, the sky would fall upon us and leave shadows in its wake.

The dark ages will reign once again, rest assured, and your petty accusations will suffer you only the crimes in which you have inflicted on so many. Let this day begin …