I spent the month of April & half of May lying face-down on my bedroom floor, letting tears flow, asking why, and not getting any answers. Other than the hours between 9 and 5, this is where you would find me. If you were looking. But you weren't. I didn't tell anyone I was on the floor, I faked a smile, and continued with "life"... Over time I've realized that few can handle another person's deepest darkest depths, and for me the number of friends I have who will truly listen and be there, is now at 0. The few who know anything about it would want to blame him and move on with the conversation. But it wasn't his fault. Was it mine? After years of blaming myself and hating myself for everything that went right and wrong, I wasn't willing to take responsibility for this, to take the fault. For six weeks or so I laid face-down on that floor alone. Months have passed and circumstances haven't changed.
