Still riding the downward spiral.

Well, it was bound to happen again. Since the last time I posted here, I haven’t done anything productive. Not that I didn’t want to, but she happened. She got in the way. She made sure of that.

I’m a sucker. Make me happy and I forget. Well I don’t forget but I don’t linger on negative thoughts. My kid taught me that.

She snaps back at the simplest of things. She will cause me grief. She HAS caused me grief, amongst other things. I ask a question, and her response is that I’m stupid. What the flying fuck. Do I want to live with someone who will treat me like that in front of my kid?

I have become a team leader at work. Things are getting harder, much harder, but its nice to see that you don’t get people like my wife who bring you down, purposely in so many ways. I try to make things positive and at work I am told that its refreshing to see that.

At home, I try to liven things up and I am treated like I’m an idiot, wasting her time,and what am I doing? I shouldn’t be doing these things. I should act like how she wants me to. Period. No discussions about this.

I am contemplating suicide. The knives are within reach. I might kill myself when I feel happy the most next time. To keep that feeling.

Things are going to get better, but I will never get the respect I want, I deserve. I will always be the SHIT underneath her shoes. That will NEVER change.

I just got kicked by my supposedly autistic kid. I guess that’s a nudge in the right direction.

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Where is she?

There are too many things that comprise the world. Humanity in itself, is probably the single most destructive force on the planet right now. I’m not even sure we deserve to live on this earth.

People are destructive on so many ways, on so many levels. From  full-scale war, to wide effects of emotional destruction, bent on a single person. Earlier, I was looking through some really graphically disturbing photos. I saw an autopsy photo of the genitalia of a girl (age not mentioned) who was brutally raped by a pedophile.

I lost hope for all humanity.

The parents of this kid. I don’t know how they will live to see another day normally. And yet here I am complaining about the things that I should and shouldn’t do. I’m not expecting an audience, but if there is one, I’m a bit relieved that someone else knows how unhappy I can become with my current situation.

In my experience, if the other half in the relationship is the “giver”, that person has a high risk of being abused in some form or another. It can be emotional abuse, verbal abuse, and sometimes in my experience, physical abuse.

I can’t talk to anyone. The single person I thought I can talk to, well, she’s been long gone now.

A few weeks ago, I had the most wonderful dream. As far as I can remember, the dream lasted for a long time, but I can only recall several seconds, of what seems to be the moment that we all enjoy in a relationship.

I was hugging a woman. As tall as me. She was beautiful. Pale skin. Beautiful eyes, and she had the physique that would be a challenge in bed. She had black hair, not long, but not too short either. She was looking down, embarrassed because I was staring at her too much.

I couldn’t stop looking at her. I knew that any moment now, if I blinked, she’d be gone.

I was hugging her. I remember this feeling. That feeling of hugging that newly found love. You couldn’t care less for the world. You are there, in that place, in that moment, and you could be there forever. I could almost hear her heartbeat, and it was speaking to me.

I love how she smelled. It had the warmth that put me at ease. I wanted to be there, to be within distance of that scent.

Just as I was to explore further in this dream… dream? I remember… This has got to be a dream. I remember what my life is at the moment. I don’t think I’ll be as happy and content as this in my REAL life. I have a real life. She’s fading. I want to dream this again tonight. I have to.

I didn’t.

I woke up. At first, feeling happy. Then feeling sad, even depressed. The thought of not being able to experience that again. Ever.

She looked like a more mature, more beautiful version of my crush in my Second Year in High School. A more pure, more beautiful, and more in love with me version of her.

I wonder how it feels to be loved. I mean really loved. I want that. I want that feeling of being pampered. That feeling of knowing that your mere existence is enough to give her all to you.

Not that feeling of saying the wrong thing and you end up being wrong on so many levels that you’d want to just drop everything and run like Forrest Gump. Run outside. Not stopping, without a care in the world. I am just going to run. I’m going to stop. But I’m going to continue. I don’t care what happens to me, I am fucking running.

To prove a point? Yes. To forget. To replace this feeling with a feat. I will not give up. I can’t. I won’t.

I’m going to sleep now. I’m going to try to have that same dream. Hopefully continue where we left off.

I love my son. I love him very much.

So I begin.

I don’t even know where to start. But all these emotions are just swamping me. They’re pinning me down. I need to let it out. I feel like crying. But that would mean defeat. I don’t know, I’ll probably cry anyway. I’m alone. Funny, there’s hundreds of billions of people on this planet. Yet I’m alone.

I’m a father. A husband. I used to love my wife, probably still do, but I don’t know. Why does she do this to me. She’s probably the most important thing in the world, right beside to my son, who has autism. Yet she treats me like dirt. I don’t know. I don’t know.

I think of a lot of things. Most of the time, what I do is but a fraction of what goes into my thought process. I’m not looking at the keyboard right now. I’m thinking this is something that I’ve always wanted to do. To type what I feel, as I think of it. I think of all the nasty thoughts. I think of all the wrong things this world has to offer, and all the injustices. I think of what unfairness my life has gone through.

I thought marrying someone would lead me to a better life. She looks at me with pure disgust, just because I was looking for clothes to bring to the gym tomorrow. Probably because I’m overweight. I don’t smoke, I drink, but only occasionally. I’d probably have a pint of beer a month, tops. I enjoy food. I eat when I’m down. I need to lose weight.

I think I’m headed for a nasty divorce. I don’t think I’ll ever love again. I probably will, but I won’t allow myself to. I don’t think I can go through this again. I want to be a father. I am a father, but not to only one child. My wife doesn’t want to have anymore kids. She says it will kill her. Her body won’t be able to handle the pain, the process of going through another pregnancy. I don’t even think I want her to have my next child. I want more children. I want someone to be able to listen to me, and know that I am their father, and that I’d be able to talk to them.

I’m tired. What is this. Why is it like this. My father is nowhere to be found. He’s got a new wife. My mom is fucking clueless to what’s happening. I feel like I’m going crazy. I wonder how many people I made to smile today. My wife was surprised when I got home. It’s as if her peace had been broken. She had that look of disappointment. What the fuck.

I’m getting drunk in this misery. I don’t think I’m ever going to trust anyone ever again. I don’t think I’d want to. I can now understand why some people never get married. There’s my work colleague, he’s a cool guy, but he’s never settled. He has a good sense of humour, but I just don’t know why. Wait I do know why. He’s not going to be putting up with this go damn motherfucking emotional and mental abuse that women put men through.

I’m not a violent person. I don’t think I’ll ever be a violent person. I can be violent. My ex-girlfriend, that whore (literally, she fucked another guy to make me jealous and I had to take her home afterwards, I’m a fucking idiot) brought out the worse in me. Kinda like what my mom did to my dad.

Suicide. No that’s not an option. Isn’t it? The great reset. You’ll be forgotten in a few years’ time, if you’re lucky. I might kill myself after this. No one would know who I am. This is Gain Gunrall, but that’s not my real name. It probably will, if I decide to suddenly go somewhere where no one knows me. Live my life like I want it to, or at least almost like it.

I’m sick of this. If I had the time to write something for everytime she took my heart out of my mouth and stepped on it, I’d probably have a book’s worth of material. This is a start. I need to do this. If I don’t do this I’d go crazy.

Let’s see what she’s going to do tonight. The other night she gave me the most disrespectful look of disgust. It still haunts me. I’d like to escape. I’d like to dream. I’d like to be a good father. I already tried, many times, to be a good husband, but humans are never content. It’s never enough.

So what is she going to do tonight. I bet she’s going to keep on talking. I bet that she’s going to talk 90% of the time, and let me do the other 10%, but only to approve of what she’s been saying. Then there’s that small 1% chance that I’ll say something that will make her think why in the world she married a guy like me. I’m a fucking idiot. A twat. A fucking waste of space. Somebody who should be splattered across the map.

She’s going to feel bad for thinking of all those bad things about me. And it’s going to be my fucking fault. I don’t even know why I’m typing this. I guess I need it. It’s a silent scream. A shout to the world, that here I am, my existence, is going to cease to exist. At the very least, I’d like to leave a mark, and not tell the world of who I really am (unless you’re the FBI, or another government agency, then you probably already know who I really am, yay, here’s a candy).

Tomorrow, I’m going back to work. I’m going to help more people. I’m going to make those people feel better. I’m going to feel like SHIT when I get home. I’m going to feel like I’m the most inadequate person alive. I just don’t know why I even bother. Why?