I used to be fierce. Nose in a book or out dancing. A force to be recognized for resilience and reconciliation. When I would wheel up to the bar door, the bouncer would tease, “UGHT oh, hear comes trouble!” I knew how to have fun on my own, never really with anyone. And, I was always ready to move states to jump off a tough road. Then, I started to write porn and try out my ideas to spice up the bedroom.

Now, none of the above seem real to me, mentally beaten blue, I wonder if I’m supposed to be alone. I wonder why I think someone else would want what he’s giving up, obviously there’s a reason, right?

I’m NOT compelled to show affection when desire is a one way street, so of course it’s me, has to be…

Too stupid. Too ugly. Too skinny. Too stinky. All around TOO ANNOYING.

That’s what he’s got to be thinking because I can count on my hands the amount of times I’ve had sex in ten years…

YES! HOW SAD!

I wish I could give him a gift, trust me, I’ve actually said this to him, “Just divorce me and find someone else, someone who likes what you like, a woman who can give you what I can’t…no extra physical and mental bullshit…I feel like you’re being tortured!”

Maybe it’s just me.

I’m so tired of watching him harbor resentment for my personality.

(Moreover, my resentment has set in, for I’m doubly depressed daily about our Aussie Bowie who has his own story of alpha neglect as dad never walks his dog, and I can’t).

Oh my golly gee, I wish I had the strength to do something to change this melancholy mood.

Indiana stop storming up my mind!

Help my thoughts to be kind!