"The wife of Jason, stealthily sleeps with another man, a man of which is unknown. Day after day, night after night, she leaves the man she so dishonestly committed to love for the rest of her life, for a man she hardly knows. Her conscience, not strong enough to save her, slowly dies along with her soul, each and every time he puts his penis inside of her. The intoxicating feeling of his penis pervading the lips of her vagina is more important to her than her heart, her soul, her innocence, her body, and her husband. Not only were her actions destroying every part of her own being, they were afflicting the hearts of many more. After a few weeks of staying at the other mans home, Jason’s wife decides to drive to her husbands house. She pulls up to the house with her portion of divorce papers signed. She commands him to do the same. Soon after, she goes to bed alone, and falls asleep, unaware that she will soon awake to a world of darkness and agony, loneliness and guilt, emptiness and shame.
Jason signs the papers. He doesn’t know what he could’ve done wrong. He loved her the best that he could. He treasured her. He accepted her brokenness. He did his absolute best. He failed her. Another man loved her better than him. She lied to him. She broke his trust. I must be a failure. I must not deserve life, since the love of my life couldn’t love me. I never cheated. Sure, I yelled sometimes, and hit her once, but only once! She had no right to walk out on me and commit adultery. Is this really happening? Is she really leaving me for another man? Has she already left me for another man? What more do I have to live for? I can’t take this pain anymore! She’s asleep in my house. This is the last time she will ever be asleep in my house. She will never be asleep this close to my presence. Tomorrow she will be gone. I can’t stand to be alive when she walks out of that door. What do I have to live for? There’s no god. I have my dad, but he’s not her. I need her, and I can’t have her. This life is bullshit. This isn’t life. Fuck this. I can’t handle this pain anymore. I don’t cry, I can’t stop crying. I hate crying! GOD! FUCK! She doesn’t deserve to be in my house right now! She was my life. She was supposed to stay with me until I died. She will. She will stay with me, legally, until I die. She hasn’t turned in the papers yet. They’re there, right over there on the kitchen table.
Until death do us part.
Jason’s wife awakes peacefully, although something about the crisp morning air doesn’t feel right. She walks outside to take a smoke, without noticing the absence of a human soul. After crushing her cigarette butt, she opens the screen door and walks inside, planning to grab the papers and her keys to leave. She walks into the room where Jason usually falls asleep on the recliner.
She screams. She yells. She scratches at her skin. She calls 9-1-1. She blames herself. She killed him. She destroyed his soul. God, it’s all my fault. Blood filled the room. His body had become one with the recliner. There was no separation between the two. There wasn’t a sign of anything but tragedy, brokenness and abandonment. It looked like the remains of a war, a war with demons, many demons all fighting each other inside of the soul of a man. She was the cause of this effect. She knew it. She wished she could take his place. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. She tried all of them, carving through her already scarred skin. With each knife, she cut deeper and deeper. She fell to the floor with the knife that dug the deepest. She held the blade in her hand, the hand that had so willingly unzipped the pants of another man. She squeezed it, until blood flowed down her arms, forming a puddle around her small body.
The police ran in, one after the other, scanning the scene. Their stone cold faces breaking with every step, she screams louder and louder until she can’t anymore. A man picks her up and takes her into the ambulance. He looks into her eyes, and sees the remains of a soul, a soul once so alive and full and bright. He has to look away from her eyes because deep inside of her eyes he sees a little girl who’s screaming for help; she’s screaming for someone to love her. While she was screaming for someone to help her, she lost sight of her life and ended it.” Losses
Happy birthday, legendary programmer Grace Hopper! Celebrate with these minimalist posters honoring pioneering women in science and technology.
"Let’s clear one thing up: Introverts do not hate small talk because we dislike people. We hate small talk because we hate the barrier it creates between people."
Laurie Helgoe (via creatingaquietmind)
I think this sums up life pretty well. Seemingly impossible, but where there is a will there is a way. Just give it time.