I’ll never truly understand why you had to do all those terrible things to me. I am still trying to figure out what I did to deserve them. It’s scary to think how long I spent with you, each and every second fearing my life. I knew that you would stoop so low to take my life in your quest to better yours.
Let’s reminisce about the things you did to get ahead, shall we? You tortured your first wife. She left you, and found someone better. You tortured your second wife, even after she carried two of your children. She left you, and did her best to take her kids with her. But she only got them for half the time.
Then, without your wife to attack, you turned to your children, particularly your daughter. Me. I am not the only one that thinks I got the worst of it after my mother left, but my brother stands by me. My mother stands by me, too.
When we are out in public, you try to show that you are the best father in the world, doing your very best to care for your children after their mother abandoned them. You tell anyone that will listen that you are the primary parent, even though we all know that it is joint custody. You stress how proud you are of your children, who after going through ‘what mother did to us’ still manage to do so well in school and other activities. It makes me sick watching you lie so easily. No normal human being should be able to do that without having the slightest bit of remorse.
There are three women that have left you in your lifetime. The first was your first wife. The second was your second wife. The third was your one and only daughter. You may still think I am coming back, even though I thought my intentions were made clear when I went back only to take my belongings that still remained there. I have not the slightest bit of intention to go back. I will never allow myself to go back to the place that traumatized me.
I wanted nothing more than to be set free from you. When I realized that no one, including myself due to my age, had the power to do so, I had to find another way. My mind instantly flashed to a knife, sharp and shiny, slitting my throat.
Death seemed like a relief to me. It was easy. Almost peaceful even. I was able to last knowing that, if the pain ever got to be too much to handle, and it was almost growing to be so, that I would have a quick and simple way out. Every single day, I contemplated ending it all. I found myself even going so far as to walking into the kitchen one night, opening the drawer where I knew that our biggest carving knife lay. But something stopped me. There were voices sounding in my head. I heard my friends, and my brother, and my mother, shouting for me not to do it, that they would help me. I did what I didn’t think I had enough strength to do anymore. I put the knife down, closed the drawer, and continued to live.
I stopped going back. I didn’t care about what would happen next. I knew that if I had stayed there any longer, I wouldn’t be able to walk away next time. Things are different now. I am more like I once was. Maybe even happy.
So, let’s think about where this leaves you on your quest for glory. You are divorced twice, not once, but twice. Your daughter does not want to see you, and your son favors his mother over you. So now I ask the question that I think you already know the answer to. Was it worth it?