A Ramble

Not too bad a day. This morning was a rough one but then every morning is rough. So are the nights. Times when all I have to do is think and remember. Times like now.

I was gonna take the bike out today but by the time I got out and over there then took a ride I would have to beat feet to make it back there and then back to Bobbi’s in time for her to take my car to work. So I went over my parents’ for an hour or two. Haven’t seen them in a few days. They’re still doing well. Mom said her shot in her back is working well but now she’s having trouble with her shoulder. Like my son. His shoulder is bad enough that he can barely drive his truck which is a stick shift. I taught him to drive a stick. I taught all my kids to drive a stick. If you can drive a stick then you can drive anything but if you can only drive an automatic then that is all you can drive. Truth be told Tony actually taught himself to drive a stick from riding motorcycles. Dirt bikes. I remember trying to teach my daughter to ride a dirt bike. And my once upon a time wife. My daughter stood over the bike, gave it gas and let the clutch out while still standing there. The bike shot forward and flipped up while she was still standing there holding the handlebars. It ran right up the side of my car, knocked the side mirror off then crashed into the garage. My wife ran into the fence when she tried. But now she rides a street bike rather well. She did that. She went and took classes in the bitter cold. I was and am so proud of her. You’ll never know what it took her without realizing had scared of bikes she was. Again that was my fault. I scared her when she was riding on the back of mine. So much of the bad things between us were all my fault. It’s no wonder she left me. I would have left a long, long time ago were I her. God bless you Allie. I’ll always love you. But then you know that. She says she still loves me too. She’s just not IN love with me. I understand and don’t blame her. No. I blame myself for all of it. If only I could get a second, or third or fourth or fifth shot at it. Goddamn how could I destroy the best thing in my life? As always tears… I cry so bloody much anymore. Every morning and every night.Seems like that is all I do. Too much time on my hands. The demons start to rant and rave and next thing I know I get suicidal again and it’s off to the nuthouse for me. Gotta watch that. Make sure it never happens again. Watch out for the despair. Despair that intense is deadly as I’ve proven time and again and again ad infintum. But the good Lord keeps seeing to it that I live. I often wonder why. SHE says it’s because God’s got a plan for me. I keep thinking it’s because the devil isn’t done fucking with me yet.That implies it is the devil who saves me not the Lord. Fuck implications. I’m tired of them. Actually I’m tired of everything. Not least of all is life itself. There. See? I get introspective and turn first maudlin then suicidal. I am one fucked up individual. As I said, no wonder she left. After all those years she’d finally had enough. It’s not like she didn’t try. God alone knows how hard she tried. She just reached the breaking point. I wore all the love right out of her like the beast wears the life right out of me.

6 thoughts on “A Ramble”

  1. Well….you sound better and that’s a good thing. And another good thing …you didn’t sell the bikes yet. Enjoy a nice ride through the country side.

  2. I know what it feels like to want to die, but if I take a shower, take a nap, and eat something I feel like loving life again. I’m sorry that your wife left you. It’s terrible to have a broken heart. I had a broken heart but I gave it time and now my heart is whole again. Don’t cry over destiny. If your wife was your soul mate… she will come back. If not, give yourself lots of love so when your love comes for you, you’ll have something to give away. You can’t love anyone correctly if you don’t first love yourself first. Love begets love. Best wishes to you. May love chase you down, knock you down, and tickle the hell out of you.

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