Looking Back

As I lay in my bed at night, our bed, the bed he has avoided and not slept in for a week and a half, I try hard not to let go of the cliff I am hanging from. It is getting harder though. I literally am now only able to hang on with one hand. Never cook while his addiction is so clearly on your mind or you too could find yourself with only one hand for a while.

We desperately need both hands if we are going to be hanging from a cliff. A cliff at which, if we fall, we will land in a place where we will find ourselves new meat for the creatures who crave to torcher souls such as ours. Never killing. That would be too easy.

I don't want to have to try to climb out of the monstrous rift again. I am not strong enough.

In the hell that I have found myself in , yet again (read my previous post for the lyrical adventure), I have been searching out new blogs. One trend I have seen, with the 2 blogs I have found recently, is that they have posted horrors from the past. I like this idea. I am thinking that it would help me. The scars I have and the pain I hold from so many years past just might be eating away at me. Yes, I am sure of it. I am a menu on the list of the most passionate foodies of the world. A delicacy per se. They seek to find me.

I don't want to be on the menu anymore. Not even the lunch menu.

So, I will be posting hurts from the past (the H will be playing the part of the rotten SOB...believe me, he will seem like one at times...and I will be playing the part of the idiot...I will definitely "look" the part all to often). I hope that this will help me in some way or another. If not, then you will all get some pretty juicy stories.

Here's to hoping.