I Wish I Was Already Gone

Thanksgiving was...a day.  An obligation.  We went to Mark's parents house in the evening and had Thanksgiving dinner and I was polite, was the smiling and supportive wife to his parents, but I said not a single word to his sister all night.  And her?  She said not a single word to me.  Our eyes never met, we were rarely in the same room, and when we were, we ignored each other and certainly didn't face each other except when we were eating. 

I overheard their daughter begging to play a card game that is popular in their family that we all played before everyone had kids and her parents said we would play it, and I conveniently pretended to fall asleep on the couch from overeating right before they all got up to go to the dining room to play.   They played one game, then Mark came and "woke me up" to go home.  Don't get me wrong, I was nicely resting, so much so I have no idea what was going on in the other room, but I wasn't asleep.  It was just a convenient diversion to keep from interacting with his witch of a sister.

I think I'm really depressed.  I spend all day in bed - sleeping, not sleeping, it doesn't matter.  That's just where I prefer to be.  To relax and stay in bed, I think of anything that will keep me there.  I try to convince myself that I'm already dead with no worries, that I'm slowly dying, I don't know, just anything that will drain all cares from my mind.  When I think that I feel BETTER if I think I'm dead or dying, that makes me think I'm really depressed.  Just being in bed all the time should be a red flag. 

I think everyone has ulterior motives for everything they do, no one is true, people are awful.  I don't understand why most people don't have empathy for others who are less fortunate, yet I question the motive of people who appear less fortunate.  Animals?  That's who I get along with,  just animals.  Just my dog, and I guess other dogs. 

I have no one to tell.  Sure, I have a marriage counselor, but she will just tell me to get to work on making Mark happy and give me ways on how to do that for the next session.  No one cares.  You know?  That's the really sad part.  No one cares.  As much as I really do care about other people, there is a line of people waiting to tell me what is wrong with ME, how *I* need to change, what *I* need to do to be a better person, how *I* can make *other* people happy and how *I* am making other people unhappy.  Screw that.  I'll just stay in bed, not crying, not caring, pretending I'm dead or dying.  I'm much happier thinking I either don't exist or soon will no longer.

A song was going through my head and it's not one I've ever particularly liked, but I looked it up on youtube, and it was like a knife in the heart when I heard it, and I'm not sure why.  We went to dinner tonight and heard it while we were eating and Mark pointed out that the song was following me around. Before I listened to it on youtube, I didn't know he was singing about someone who had died, someone who he had dreams with.  It's actually a very sad song, but I didn't know that.  I listened to it again tonight, and realized, you know, I wish I was that person he was singing about, the one who is already gone forever.

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