unbeloved

nation...how sad a picture is a 50-year old woman wishing to be in a fictional place in the arms of a thorough lover whispering unintelligible, yet suggestive-sounding Gaelic phrases breathlessly into her ear (from behind of course!)...? last night, i invited my present day husband into our hot tub - he declined. so in the cool night air, under an overcast sky, listening to the falling acorns, i conjured up my Jamie - to recline under me on a single lounge length with jets of water on my sore feet, and bubbles caressing my sore knees. The jets on my neck became his calloused hands easing the tension from my stressed existence. And I could only sob...for the man I'll never know. Would that I could be just loved and have someone enjoy my company.

as each day passes, i realize not only have I never known in life the love or even mere affection that i imagine feeling from a fictional character (and I never will), but i am starting to think i may be losing my mind. I cry for all the emotions i cannot feel, and all i'll never have. The more I imagine myself with this fictional character, the more I hate who I am and just want to die.

how can something that has brought me so much joy become a mirror reflecting just how empty my life REALLY is? My husband doesn't even like me; I am more convinced of it each day. There is no feeling in his eyes (with the exception of maybe disdain) when he talks to me, the put downs and demeaning tone comes more frequently. Nothing I do or say is accepted or acceptable. i am so alone in this toxic existence, there is no light anymore, no glimmer of anything positive...

I so badly want to give myself over to the ever creeping black that surrounds me; NO ONE would ever even miss me. How sad is this life - that I bring nothing of value to anyone.