This is something I rarely talk about. Of how I abused my wife. Many years ago I was married and it was a typical, run in the mill, marriage. We had it all, if you mean a life of content without little ones to share it with. We were not ready we said to each other. And I to this date admit that we were right. No for each other as it seems but only for the kids part.
It was a gloomy day that day. Should have seen it coming, I now say, but are we not all 20/20 after the battle. I walked home that day from work. Even though I worked from home and I was running my own business we still had an office for more of a psychological reason. I am good in what I do and I never did wrong with one of my own. They are my family away from home and I love them as such.
I was thinking and concluded that the thinking I had to do that day deserved a walk home in the rain. A happy walk. A one of those moment-she-realizes-that-she-loves-him walk. Never did much of them, so I reminiscence. Now I think about it in this state and I have to say that the walk-in stereotype is not all that it’s cracked up to be. Nevertheless I have not encountered one, still.
She was crying and I put myself aside and tried to say the right things. To do the right thing. I said them, but it was not me she expected to hear them from. She confessed to an affair with a friend we both knew. She told me in full detail and I said nothing. Even though I felt everything.
To this day I said nothing to her. Left her with everything but a letter in which I cruelly listed stuff I think I should get. Like this notebook in which I am writing this email and some general sentimental stuff.
She did her best but I stayed faithful to me. I am proud of that I did.
Wonder what will people think when they find out I killed myself. Not much to do but to send you this for you to post it on your blog for everyone to read. Do it in the middle of the night please, give me that much. Who knows how much grammatical mistakes are in this text. This tekilla is to be blamed surely.
Now that I reread this pages I written in this hours past I see that this is to be judged as my style. Have to say that that is fucked up. Pardon me. Think about it fella, they judge your last action even though the last action is only the result of all the actions you took during the long years.
Machiavelli should have written it differently. I am about to meet with him so I am feeling a bit cocky and will change one of the selling points of capitalism.
Means justifies the cause. No. Cause is judged because of the means.
I love Mariella. Love her so much that I turned up on her weeding today with Kenneth. Congratulated them both, sat down, stared blank, stole a bottle of tekilla and went home under the excuse of work being it a week day.
One more thing. It is not a mistake, just ask Hemingway.