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.