I read other blogs about betrayed spouses.
Sometimes I cry for them, other times I laugh and cheer, by reading them I don’t feel alone. In my real world I feel alone. I feel like everyone else’s life is from a frigging tampon commercial and they are skipping through their daisy filled life. I guess mine is more like tip toeing through the tulips because I have to try to miss all the blood splattered flowers.
I like not feeling alone, maybe it’s the whole ‘misery loves company’ thing, but I don’t think so. I think it’s scary being insane and I like knowing others are my kind of crazy. If we are all crazy together it’s more of a club less of an intervention meeting, where it ends with you being locked up. It’s a new age book club for up and coming writers.
I bet sometimes my husband wishes I had decided to write children’s books about my daughter’s adventures. I know sometimes it’s probably hard for him knowing a lot of people who live in our town have read my blog. I feel bad for him, I do…then I remember it was HIS choices which led me to this path. I didn’t wake up one day and say…
“Hey I’m going to make up a story about my husband screwing a fat whore”
I wish I was writing about Lou while skipping through a daisy filled world.