These very last breaths
My eyes pulse crimson, dull and tearless
Undoubtedly seized with an unutterable finality;
the last dread emotion. 
Lying in a fishing pond of blood
My recondite beast, scrupulous, untiring machine,
Won't you ever stop breathing...pulsing, pounding
Exquisitely living?
Every day begins with murder
But ends in my quiet, defeated existence;
Another shiny calamity. 

I would brush your scarred and mottled skin
With my fingertips,
In silent reconciliation. 
Kiss your narrow lips,
And wet your tender kneck with my promises
Let me string together your scattered soul,
Let me. 
Only then can I live again. 

Jail

He sent me to jail.  For four days.  It was horror.  If I hadn't of had the small military experience that I have, I am not sure how I would have coped.  But, just as in that movie, Being Flynn, I reminded myself that life is about gathering material.  I was handcuffed, shackled, strip searched and in perpetual lockdown.  I spent so many hours brimming inside my head that I felt I might go insane.  In extreme moments I quoted and requoted Hamlet, Edna Wheeler Cox and Kurt's phone number.  I thought of Mary from my story, albiet not as much as I should of.  I reread Jude the Obscure and many mundane articles from Reader's Digest.  I wrote my terrible thoughts down with a golf pencil and decided that I was far too much in love with my children and far too afraid of violence to kill myself.  I wore socks no thicker than toilet paper and had to use a community toilet that pointed directly towards the face of my celly on the bottom bunk.  I suffered terrible, anxious diarrea and nausea.  I froze in what was supposed to be a sheet and a blanket but what was really just another sheet with texture.  I was eaten alive by bed bugs.  But the worst, I didn't know where my children were. 
I am scared.  I do not want to go back but I may have to.  If that is the case, I thought that maybe I should just rid the world of myself but I do not think I have the guts to do it.  And anyway, in jail there are people with worse lives than me.  That is some reconciliation. 
Kurt bailed me out, took care of my children and now we are moving in with him.  That scares me too.  But not as much as jail. 

Post Suicide

I didn't finish my last blog. It was time to go.  But, there was more to that story.  And my weekend didn't get any better.  I had some pretty tough breakdowns.  I just have no desire to live.  I do not have the energy to go through this all over again.  It doesn't surprise me that Adam is doing this...but my poor son.  What is this doing to him.  How much more fucked up is he going to be and Adam can think about is himself and how he wants his baby.  I do wish I had been smart and gotten an abortion.  Having this child with Adam is the worst thing that has ever happened to me and my family.  And Max is no better off.  He will end up like his dad if I can't get him back...his dad is nothing short than a waste of space.  He is evil and I hate him.    And i miss my son.  I just don't want to go on.  I have no will. 

Suicide Day

My life really never gets any better.  I am very reluctant to write this post and not very excited for others to read it.  But suppose what makes anything worth reading is writing what you most fear.  Adam has kidnapped the baby again and won't let me see him.  It's like having my soul ripped out.  The pain is just about intolerable.  I cannot believe I am going through this again. 

ButI am not sitting on my hands.  I did go and file custody and even temporary custody.  But the very soonest I will be able to see Max is 9/27 and that is killing me.  Every day it is difficult to get up, to stay up and when I am at home I have a hard time doing anything but laying in bed and dealing with my siezed nerves. 

Here is my Tuesday.  I am wretched, scared and Adam refuses to let me see my son.  So, I go to lunch and kurt is there.  He says, "Stop whining."  I go ballistic on him, call into work for the rest of the day and then mull around the homeless for a few hours crying my eyes out. I decide i am giong to kill myself.  I sit under a tree and discover there is a bridge just ahead and that i am going to climb to the top and throw myself off.  I am ready to do this.  But I am hot and have a headache so I lie underneath a tree for a few moments and fall asleep.  When I wake up, my head is pounding so badly I cannot open my eyes.  I realize I need to take care of the blinding headache and stagger towards the trax.  On the way there a man leaning against a building says, "Hey there pretty lady."  I ignore him, thinking he will see my puffy eyes and understand, but he yells out, "Fuck you then."  I walk on. 

This day and last night

I am having a hard time.  I was thinking I had this house...they made think as much....and last night I got a text from the guy that said something to the effect that they were considering someone else and to give them a call.  Which essentially tells me tht I didn't get the house.  And this morning I just don't want to be here at work.  I am going to have to initiate plan B which is to give my kids to their fathers since I cannot support them.  I have failed them.  Again.  And i hate that anyone would read this blog and feel bad for me but it's just the way of things right now. 
I had this awful dream last night.  There was a man who was torturing me, holding me down and pinning my arm to the ground.  But the horrible part was that he was choking someone to death in front of me and I couldn't stop him.  I don't really want to relive it but I woke up and couldn't help but wonder...what the fuck is wrong with my head? 

HIiiiiiiiigh Again

I am having a very difficult time writing.  I am tired of complaining maybe.  But Adam is high again and with the girlfriend and this is my way of documenting all he does so that when we have to go back to court....it's all here.  He butt dialed me and I heard him discussing how many pills he and Alexis had between them and...sadly...how to fill out a financial aid application.  My theory is that if you can't figure out how to fill out a financial aid application for college by yourself, you're not going to do that well in college.  He's brilliant...doing it for the money and yet destined to fail another semester.  Thank God he's not my problem anymore. 

Just thinking

So the landlord actually said..."Would you like to sweeten the deal?"  That was it.  And then, last night he calls me and says, maybe you should keep your options open.  After what happened, I am not sure this is a good idea."  Seriously?  SERIOUSLY?  Fucking serious?  I should sue the bastard.  It was so nuts..the whole thing.  Accusing me of sexually gratifying my current landlord and then I think about it and what I let him do and it makes me ill.  I also know that the only reason why what happened actually happened in because of these stupid PAXIL withdrawals.  I am the stage of intense anxiety right now.  And loathing depression.  I feel like if I were only slightly more disconnected....