I'm his wife, not his babysitter. I've pumped out, raised and waved off two spawn over the years, and here I find myself practically having to raise another one. Only this one's a grown man. Having to leave him notes for even the simplest thing is getting old real fast. And don't give me that shit about aging, early onset this, that or the other. It's all horseshit. I'm about the same age and I don't have a problem remembering anything. And passion? Don't even get me started on that. Mister Softy- we've given each other pet names over the years- wouldn't even know how to fuck me if I crawled to him, begging for it. At this point I'm about like a wrinkled paper bag anyway. Reminds me of those "Fire Danger" warning signs at the state park entrance. I'd have to have one tattooed on my fucking belly these days.
I've given up so much. But whatever. Lately, when he walks in the door all I can do is look at him, hoping he'll be better, then look away once I see that blank gaze.
Are those her thoughts or your projections onto her? They are very deep.
ReplyDeleteThese are her thoughts/her point of view.
DeleteKeep writing!
DeleteMakes me wonder if she's said those things or are those things you think she says to herself. Either way, it's kinda sad.
ReplyDeleteYeah, this is my version of her thought process.
DeleteWow. Lots to unpack here and I am not even sure where to start.
ReplyDeleteJust remember, this is loosely based on what's in my head.
DeleteInteresting. Next should be the dog's perspective and how he is humiliated to be seen in public with his owners :-)
ReplyDeleteAgree with Shife, lots to unpack here.
ReplyDelete