“Take me out – on a date or with a shotgun, it doesn’t matter which”
She mostly wanted the latter – settled for the former.
She pushed every one of them away, afraid of repeating her parents’ mistakes. She never thought she would marry, so she told jokes, thinly veiling reality.
In her own marriage she finds herself reliving her childhood.
They are flashbacks made present
I don’t know if she wants to solve them or end them or end herself. Maybe all of those solve them in some way.
She knows on some level it’s not the same – it was thirty years ago.
But they keep coming.
Terrifying. Real. Hurtful. Damaging. Lost.
In a nightmare that was real thirty years ago.
A nightmare that won’t end. A nightmare more real than real life. She is losing herself and him and can’t explain it.
She is her and he is him.
And she knows it sounds silly.
But it’s a terror loop that won’t end.
Lost in my own mind.
We are not them.
I promised I wouldn’t be them but I can’t get out and you so remind me of him sometimes.
But I am grieving. And I love you.
I am sorry husband. I am so sorry I couldn’t explain it before. I am so sorry for hurting you.
I am wrong.
Laughs and Lobotomies 