Tired. I am tired.

oh readers. I cannot believe how little I knew him. I feel raped. I was raped. He lies and I have become his sad, disgraceful ex-wife. I will never again be honest or loving. He must go and go now. He is disgusting. I hate him. I hate everything about him.
I don't even know where to begin. I don't honestly know if i can write it all. It makes me sick. I couldn't sleep last night and he gave me a zanax and then as I slept he raped me, told me that I was nothing and that it is only sex and don't I like that? And he did his job and left for God knows why and where and I was too fucking tired to care anyway. I had to take a test this morning and needed my sleep, and what is he to me anyway. This morning I read his texts on his phone and the myriad lies he is telling everyone. He told this girl that he is trying to fuck that I begged for him to come back. That I told him I loved him and wanted him back. I couldn't help myself. I wrote her back. I wrote, "I have no reason to defend myself to you, but what he writes you makes me ill. Makes me want to throw up. I did not say that to him. Why would I want to stay with a man that verbally abuses me and keeps himself flattened with poverty? I am going to puke now." And when he woke up I told him I wrote his lady and corrected things. He said, "What are you doing going through my texts on my phone?" And I laughed very hard at that one. The fucker has been going through my personal things for eight years now and he has the balls to say that. I told him so and that shut him up for a good, long while.
I hate him. I HATE that man. He is saying things now to hurt children and I told him that if he ever does anything like that again, I will never let him see the children ever again. He said this right in front Holden, Eric and Mia. "Why do you protect Max so much? You don't seem to care about the other kids like that." I later told him that any father that wants to make his own son doubt his mother's love should be found dead in a rotted sewer.
I hate him.
I hate him.
And so many more things that I cannot write here right now. I feel too exhausted. I am merely trying to survive right now. He has bounced the checks for rent, neglected everything and now the landlord wants us out. I wrote her and pleaded with her. I assured her that I respect her house and will make sure the rent is paid and the house is clean but I am so tired. I can only do so much.
I asked my mother if I could come and live with her so that I can save money and get on my feet and though she didn't flat out refuse, she said she would think about it and call me back. I haven't heard from her and I know that I won't. We are unwanted, my children and I. We are alone.

Laundry?

But now he folds the laundry for the first time. And apologized to everyone. And now I sit and write while feeling like shit.

Infernos

It went down like this:
Someone screamed. It was Eric, then Mia then Holden. Simoun goes out there and what I hear is this; You twisted his arm? You want to see how that feels? And then screams from Eric.

I came out and said, you didn't do it! You didn't twist his arm, did you? And that was the fight that ruined the night. That is not the first, nor will it be that last. Until all this ends. Until he leaves at last, when the finale comes and it is over.

I have endured another day of weird and tortured comments. All of us are unhappy. These nights run into each other far too often. Right now I wouldn't be too alarmed if it ended somehow, if some cosmic asteroid fed itself into the earth and we all became living infernos.

One of them hides under the table sobbing. One of them pulls the covers over his head. One of them keeps trying to help, tries to make it better. The other hides in her room with headphones and pretends it doesn't exist. I get angry and I say it all out loud. He furrows in his nest of filth in the room.

Then come the apologies.

Then come the abusive comments.

Then we all live another day.

Plant Man

Halloween this year was underwhelming. Simoun and I got into a huge fight. It ended with me telling the children to get into the car and Simoun tearfully apologizing. He has been verbally abusing me for days now, saying terrible things that make me shrug my shoulders and wish I were somewhere else, but hardly detrimental to my self esteem. It takes far more than that to hurt me. I always adhere to this philosophy: if someone says something just to hurt you, it shouldn't. When something is said accidently that hurts you, it should. So these names, this bullshit he has been panning out, I don't care much. But it gets old. It gets to where listening to his litany of names and self destructive detriments gets annoying. Adam came to see Max last night and Simoun sat on the couch and did all he could to hurt Adam. He said, "Amy, I put Max to sleep like you asked me to. I rocked him until he was fast asleep." Adam gave him a look of disgust and I was useless to respond. Simoun said it because he knows it hurts Adam. Adam loves that baby and wishes he were with him every night, rocking and loving him every night, and Simoun knows this. So, he hurt Adam where it counted the most. Which, by the way, has nothing to do with me. I am a mere vector. A bottle for Max. I am invisible.
Yet, here in my head, I lie awake and think about everything. How I am older now, how my body is loose and dimpled. How I have really done little to make myself worthwhile. I have not been living and now I face an unstable future. Simon and I are broken up. We are finished! And I am happy about that. He was on the phone tonight with one of his girls, talking about how they need to get together and talk even at 3 am and I felt nothing but a gratitude. I do want Simoun to be happy and we both know that I can't give him that. I don't love him like I used to. He has let me down. Let all of us down.
These days I don't even know if I can be with Adam. What would that be like? Me sagging, me succumbing to age and it's abuses while he is ten years younger and extremely desirable. I really cannot put myself through that. I don't have the strength. What I want is to not care about my skin, my weight, my graying hair. I want to be comfortable with myself and accept who I am. I do, really. Just that I don't feel it's good enough for a beautiful man ten years younger. I am no trophy. I am merely me.
I hate Simoun drunk. He rolled around in bed the other night saying, "Oh it's a good thing I am dying this year or early next. Oh I really fucked up my life. I didn't do anything with my life. I failed."
Oh Simoun. You did fail. You failed big.
But I don't say that. I would never say that. I only think it.