So I haven’t written anything today yet other than a hand-written letter to my wife, but I did write last night after posting my last report. I was up long enough to see the Idol topics and picked one and ran with it. Not because I felt necessarily inspired, but because the entry constructed itself in my head once I saw the topic. Of course, I wrote nonfiction, and the whole piece is shown below. The topic was “Cards on the Table.”


We’ve come a long way, you and I. We’re not the teenagers we were when we met. We’ve both grown and changed so much in the past decade — and we did it together.

Together. It’s the word that holds enough weight off my shoulders so I can still function. So I can get up each morning and tend to our son and push through each awkward and painful interaction with you. 

Except we’re not really together anymore. Separate beds. Last time we kissed was three days ago. Holding hands and maybe an awkward, heartfelt hug are the most you’d allow. And that’s — I keep saying it’s okay, but it’s not. It’s not, and we both know it, and we dance around it.

You want to talk about everything in a structured setting. Me, you, and a therapist. I want to talk now, try to do what work we can while we wait for a professional to provide their guidance as well.

You know I don’t deal with waiting very well. I’m not patient, especially not right now. Especially not when in a house of six people, I feel so incredibly alone at times. Most of the time, I don’t mind it. Except when our son clings to me, of course. Right now, I’m grateful he doesn’t understand. That’s he’s not really empathetic, yet. 

I’m going to write you letters. Every day. Things I have managed to say. Things I haven’t managed to say. But all of the things said will be the truth. They will best reflect my current mindset. 

I don’t expect you to read them. I don’t expect them to do anything. But I need to get those things off my chest, and I need to do them in a constructive manner. With so much hanging in the balance — with the knowledge that I have, that you might not want to stay…

These things hurt me. And I don’t want to take that hurt out on you. This is neither of our faults, this is years of conditioning and abuse and an unbroken feedback loop finally being put to an end. These are the things that have glued us together for so long. Without this glue, I’m not sure we’ll survive.

Neither are you.

And that’s okay. 

It’s okay. I promise, no matter what happens, it’ll be okay. You’ll be better for it. I’ll be better for it. 

Whether we’ll be better for it, well…

We’ll have to wait and see.