Failing

I’m failing at life today. I’m sitting on my bed right now, crying. I’ve been crying for what feels like forever and I can’t seem to stop.

The reason for my meltdown is a cold shower. The cold shower is due to some electrical work that’s being done, in fits and starts, for the past two years. But the truth is I’m crying for everything else. For this house that has cost me more in terms of money, time and energy than it will ever be worth and I’m still not done, for my dead marriage, for the fact that I’m still in love with the person the Ex used to be, for the fact that I lost my temper and smacked the Boy on his tush harder than I should have, for this life I’m living that isn’t really mine but I don’t know where mine went, for the fact that I recently found out the Girl has a really bad nut allergy and I don’t want to deal with that fear, and I don’t want her to deal with that life, because we’ve been walking on the threshold of death for far too long in this family, for the fact that I’ve got nothing that’s just mine and that makes me happy for no reason and for the fact that I’ve got no one to take care of me and it makes me feel so alone, and for my broken heart, mostly for my broken heart. And that, all of that, is making me sad, just so, so sad, today.

So today I’m failing. Failing at this life I’ve been given, where I smile and act happy, and upbeat, and when the shit hits the fan I paint it gold, and spritz perfume on it so I can sell it as something better than just shitty shitty circumstances, where I justify everything and solve all the problems and sugar coat everything else. Where tomorrow is always better, cause honestly can it be worse? Though it can, it always can, but I close my eyes and stuff my fingers in my ears and pretend that that isn’t true.

I’m failing at this farce of a life, and it doesn’t really make a difference cause failing at it or succeeding at it are two bitterly similar things. Failing just means that tonight I can’t stop crying.