Resent me.

| June 24th, 2016

“Everything you touch turns to shit,”

The more I think of it, the more I think it’s true. Everything I say or do; every relationship I have, is made worse by me.

“I deserve a husband that puts attention to me,”

I’m an anxious, broken man. Frozen because I’m afraid to move. I’m afraid that you attention will burn me, so I run away.

“I deserve a husband that’s attracted to me.”

I don’t know what to say. I feel so empty and sad sometimes. I love you, and I want you, but you don’t want me to touch you, until you do.

“I deserve a husband that can give me a third child without autism.”

Yes. Yes you do. I can’t give that to you. I wish I could. I see the envy in your eyes. I can feel every missed milestone like a dagger in my heart. I love my children I’m proud of who they are, and I love who the will become, but I know this isn’t an easy road.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

I can’t think of a thing I’ve made better in this life. I think my friends are friends despite me.

I’m sorry you have to resent me

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

Even my mother got tired of me, although she’d never admit it.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

I’m sorry I make you resent me.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

I just bull through life, hoping for the best.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”

Perhaps it was an inevitability.

“I deserve someone better.”

You didn’t say it, but you said it. And it’s true.

“Everything you touch turns to shit.”



Resents me eventually.

The facade fades, the music grows tiresome, the dance ends.

The band stops. The game ends.
And in the end.

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