I want to die.
My life is meaningless.
I have no hope.
I go to work each day and answer phones and shuffle papers. So meaningless. The little things I do at work to help others that mean a lot to me mean nothing to my boss. I feel like she only sees my screw-ups. She and I think so differently. She is amazing at her job, but I often feel at a loss how to work with her.
I come home each day and make a mediocre meal, if you can call it that. My daughter hides in her room to eat, with the internet for company. That is often easier on her than my company. I eat with my husband in front of the TV so I don’t have to talk to him.
I wish he would just go away. Just go away and leave me alone. There is nothing. A couple hundred dollar bills left on my purse once a week. Inane chatter about what is going in his world. Everything is about him. Everything.
Hope. Hope for what?
There is nothing with him.
I often think if somehow, by some miracle, I do someday escape him, that no one would really want to be with me. Use me, yeah, maybe. I’m nice and somewhat pretty and somewhat fit, so yeah, sure, use me. But who would ever really care about me? And what is there even to care about?
I used to know what I was doing with my life. I was trying to be a good wife so my husband would love me. I was raising my daughters. I went to church every week like I was supposed to.
My daughters are in college. I text one every day that I love her. Is that a relationship? I see the other one a few minutes each day. Maybe I’m still their mommie, but it’s not the same any more. They need me, but they don’t need me.
A good wife. Ha! What a joke.
And church. Not even going there.
So I look at myself and I see someone pretty scummy and worthless and hopeless. What do I matter? What difference do I make? I don’t even know what I could do to make any difference.
Every day I try.
Every day I walk a fine line between sanity and insanity.
Today I just want to die.