The Dark Side of Crazy

Before everything happened with Bob, there was all that happened with Don.  I quickly learned exactly what sort of person Don is and what he is capable of.  I hope karma returns him the favor ten fold.  Shawn thought I was going to leave him, which is stupid.  I have only a couple of reasons for leaving him and one ongoing problem a few years ago was one of them.  I stayed.

I have 4 pages of notes in the depth of my purse.  I wrote these notes throughout the days after Bob passed away.  I always meant to come back around to it.  I wanted to write about it because I thought it might help with the pain.  It's been a month and three days since Bob died and yes, it's still quite painful.  It still hurts very much.

I haven't had time to write.  I didn't even want to write about everything that happened with Don.  I was too angry.  We lost $1800.  We haven't had anything in our saving account for three years and we LOST $1800.  I'm still angry.  I never wanted to open a vapor store.  I tried to explain this to Shawn months ago but it doesn't really matter what I want.  I'm not interested in this stuff, not enthusiastic, not excited.  It doesn't matter what I want.

Sometimes I think I'd be better off alone.  No one to irritate me or mess up my mood.  No one to make messes and leaves trails behind them for me to clean up.  But then I'd be alone.

After everything that's happened, I feel like I'm starting to lose my mind.  It's taking all my energy to not swallow an entire bottle of pills.  Who would feed the dogs if I didn't?  Shawn would never remember.  So I live.  I continue on.

I never wanted any of this  I crave simplicity.  That's why I love for things to be neat and clean and organized.  The alternative stresses me out and makes me depressed.  Shawn doesn't understand this, no matter how I've tried to explain it.  It doesn't matter what I want, even if it would make me happy.  Shawn does these things to try and provide better for me; he thinks that will make me happy.  It doesn't matter.

It's much too soon to write about Bob and the FUCKED UP things that happened after his death.  I cry now just thinking of it.  I cry because there's nothing else I can do.

Why does Don get to be an immediate success?  I'll give the answer:  It's because he's a bad person.  We've tried so many things, so many ventures but we always fail because we're good people.  We're generous and kind and decent.  These sort of people never make it unless they're characters in a movie.  I am not saying this merely because I am bitter--I've seen it time and time again.  Decent people always seem to fail, to be without.


The meek shall inherit the earth.  What's left of it will be up to those who were successful.  Most likely, they will have scorched the earth and that will be all that's left.

I think it's really fucked up that Bob died.  I think what happened with out families is really fucked up.  And I think it's really fucked up with the mess he left us when we're already working 2 jobs a piece six days a week and now we have to spend every available Sunday over there fixing this shit.  We could've done this a long time ago if we'd known anything about it.

I just need things to be simple.
I need things to be simpler. 

Everyone says Oh just give it time, these things take time.  Fuck that!  Shawn wanted to start a business so we refinanced the house, took a loan, then another loan and barely got by for 2 or 3 years.  The minuet it begins to become lucrative he says OH!  Let's open a vapor store.  So now we owe almost $10,000 to Visa and around $3000 or $4000 to his sister (give or take) ON TOP OF AND IN ADDITION TO  all the other loans for his first business.

Give it time?  Don opened and immediately was making money hand over fist.  His wife put in her 2 week notice at her job TWO WEEKS after he opened.  I know exactly what he was making per month because we made the product.  I know how much he was ordering from us and I know what he was selling it for.  Give it time?  Unbelievable!  I wish we'd never met Don.  We could've continued on our merry way.  I'd be down right HAPPY to stay at the job that I hate if none of this would have ever happened.

Every time I cross the tracks on my way home I imagine a train clipping my vehicle.  Not enough to cause serious injuries, you know, just enough that Santa Fe would give me a huge settlement to keep my mouth shut.  It's crazy, I know, wishing for that to happen.  As I've said, I feel like I'm losing my damn mind. 

It's really a miracle I haven't slit my wrists yet.  Miracles?  Where is God?  WHERE?!  I feel alone and abandoned.  ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING ANYMORE? 

I can't take much more.  I've said this before, I know, but I seriously cannot take much more.  If so much as the weight of a feather falls on me I'm gonna crack.  "God only gives you what you can handle...."  Really? (tell that to anyone who's attempted suicide)  REALLY?  Well, I've had about as much as a person can fucking handle, alright?  This is IT.  This is my limit!

Every time I think things have to start looking up, they fall again.  It's enough to make a person lose their damn mind.  Give it time...