Before this gets any deeper, before this goes any further, you have to know. There are two sides to me. The first side is the side you know and love, the romantic, the poet, the optimist who says, 'Follow your dreams, live life to the fullest.'
Then there is the other side, the depressed addict. That is the side of the rock star that gets raging drunk and destroys his hotel room, the side of meth addict that just can't pull it together long enough to get himself clean.
I have done a lot of crazy stuff in my life, seen a lot of crazy things. I have been to the lowest lows and the highest highs. I have been a martyr and a saint and I have been the devil.
You may say, 'I don't care what you did in the past.' Yet it's not about the past. That other side is still there, still making me do stuff I wish I'd never do again, to think stuff I wish I'd never think again.
You may ask why I want a divorce. Because my wife is no different than me. We are two peas in a pod. When I say I want to do this, she needs to say no. But how can she when she wants the same thing. Now, that may not seem to be bad. Except those things are killing us, albeit slowly, but nonetheless, killing us.
I think I can beat this demon before we are together. I think that when I lay eyes on you I will find myself once again on the straight and narrow path of God and the demons in my mind will flee from the light of righteousness. I think that you are so strong in spirit that you will be the champion who slays the beasts in my head. Sometimes, I think they may consume you. I wonder if that is what happened to my wife? I wonder if she was not the person I now believe she used to be but instead became a victim of my baser self.
I don't know. I want to know, that's why I write, to find the truth. But I am afraid that truth may be further away than I hope.
There are times when I think that the world would be better off if I just kept to myself. And though I do enjoy a nice day with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, I am deathly afraid of being alone. Perhaps I am afraid of that other self. Perhaps I am afraid that he will consume me.
Please, take this all with a grain of salt. I know that I have the habit of blowing things out of proportion when I'm writing. Maybe that's what this is, something small I blew up into something big or perhaps I'm just rambling. Either way, only time will tell what becomes of us and them.