Saturday, July 12, 2003

A note on a typical night…

It’s nearly 1am, Saturday morning, July 12. I would like nothing more than to get some sleep but I can’t get to sleep because of the “evening ritual”. I call it the “evening ritual” because it’s been going on for years now, whenever I try to get some sleep. The “evening ritual” takes several forms. Sometimes, I’ll try to sleep but wake up from nightmares – nightmares about how I left Rosa and my life will never be good again. Sometimes, I’ll go to sleep and sleepwalk… waking up under the strangest of circumstances.

Sometimes, like tonight, I will get in bed in the hopes of sleeping and voices, an army of voices, will spring into my mind and remind me of how I lost Rosa and how alone I am and how I’m better off dead and how all hope is lost… and on and on and on.

It’s not what I would call “fun”.

It’s about three and a half years since I first asked Rosa for a divorce. After months of her telling me how she would rather me be with someone else, after I found someone who I thought was that someone else, after I was vilified as an evil, horrible man for doing what I did, after years alone and in pain, still I suffer.

But, Dear Friends, if that was all of it, I could probably get by.

Recently, most of my friends have been disappearing. I’m getting the impression that they’ve heard enough of my sorrow, had enough of my pain, and are just plain sick of my loneliness. Hell, if it wasn’t for Annie and Tim, I’d have no one to talk to at all.

But the sad truth is that most of my friends have taken the attitude that I should just forget about what's happened to my life and meet some nice girl so we can double date again like when I was married... as if it was that easy. (Personally, I'm just trying to keep everyday from being complete torment... with very little luck.)

They may all have a point. I mean, this show has overstayed its engagement and I would rather it hit the road – move to be another lonely guy in another town.

But, still, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about how Rosa wanted me out of her life, how she got rid of me, and… well, there’s an “and” but let’s not get into that. Rosa didn’t want me from the beginning – as hard as that is to admit – and made sure to get rid of me. Now, I’m stuck with no past, no future… and no one ever gives me presents (ha ha)…

Sadly, most of my time is spent alone – to the point where I’m beginning to lose it a bit. I don’t even know if anyone reads this Blog… except, perhaps, Tim… In the final analysis, I could be talking to dead air.

I don’t think I can take much more of this. Call me weak but three and a half years of solitude…

(NOTE: Please excuse any typos... I was drunk when I wrote this...)

No comments: