page 24-The Source

I would like to start by saying I have pretty worn out shoes. So I would suggest some clean socks for this brief journey today.

"I have never thought of writing for reputation and honor. What I have in my heart must come out; that is the reason why I compose."
- Ludwig van Beethoven

I'm getting behind. I'm getting sloppy. I'm getting more emotional rather than colder. My heart is leading me into the storm. My words are digging my grave. Why can't I front? Why can't I lie? Why I'm I not learning the process of moving on? Why do I constantly take 2 steps backwards for every inch forward? Today I broke another cardinal rule of mine. Don't communicate with the source. That's what I'm calling my old lady now. She's the source of my pain, she the source of my generic happiness. The source of my great memories, the source of my darkest as well. Today is another Monday on a long list of Monday's I am to endure. Nothing special just trying to get through the day as positive as I can make it. Well a couple of hours ago , my daughter went and checked the mail. So not thinking much about it she comes into the bedroom to sort the mail, its very adorable. The first thing that catches my attention is the two envelopes containing card. My mouth dried up instantly and my heart fluttered like the wings of a humming bird. I then glanced with more effort as if not wanting to stare at a car wreck on the highway. My suspicions were confirmed. That undeniable bubble handwriting that mesmerizes me is hers. They tear into the cards like lions to a fresh gazelle kill. Pieces of paper go flying like the defeathering of a chicken or something. Thier precious smiles erase any wrong doing she has done for a minute or so. I then with much fear in my voice ask them to view these recent treasures they have uncovered. For I really didn't want to see what her generic message was crayoned in, put to physically touch what she had touched. In my delusional fantasy I romanticize this moment where in time and space we are actually hand in hand and this card simply facilitates this insane gesture. I'm looking at the card now as we speak. What will this solve or prove to my feeble heart? What desperate answer am I seeking to numb this everlasting ache? The reality of the situation is simple. Not a godamn thing. Wake up Richie its over like the day will be so a new one can rise tomorrow. Who am I to think that I can change history and insert some bullshit fairytale of a marriage. What has happened to me to twist my perceptions of the real world so badly that I must torment myself at every possible turn? I suppose I'll have everyday I'm allotted on this earth to either figure this out or fall deeper into the rabbit hole. As a side note I did actually speak with her for a few minutes. Initially I called so the kids could thank her for the cards she sent. Somehow after the she made the rounds with the kids we ended up on the phone.  It was a pretty calm conversation expect the part were I wanted to vomit from all the anxiety I was feeling. We exchanged hellos and I basically asked how she was doing. I ran the basic lineup of questions. How are you feeling, are you eating, are you taking your meds? Standard questions you asked a love one. Yes I said loved one, I know I'm an idiot get in line with everyone else who wants to smack some sense into me. The only part of the conversation I really regert was when I was asked about the divorce proceedings. I became guarded like a soldier defending his post. I said I didn't want to talk about. She kept digging trying to find the source of my evasive ways. I told her now that I have her address that she would find out in time one way or another, trying to throw her off my scent. She relayed the info with the person she's staying with. This person suggested that I was avoiding the subject causeI still loved her and didn't want to proceed forward. There's that word again forward. I very stupidly said that was a very perceptive person, which obviously exposed my true feelings at the moment. With anyone else in my life this wouldn't be such a bad thing, but with her this information is very, very dangerous.  Its sad that it is that way but history doesn't seem to dictate any other kind of behavior. 

I just freakin finished writing a whole paragraph and forgot to save it. Nothing I'm doing lately is clicking. I'm misfiring on all cylinders and burning out my engine. I'll do my best to try to remember what I just wrote.  I'm so fucking irate and frustrated at the moment. This is now the fifth time I have tried to. Finish this one page. It is now Wednesday and I started this on Monday. Between forgetting to save like six million times and the internet crashing I have forgotten all the words and feelings associated with this experiment. The best way to end this marathon of a page is to post a voicemail left by one of my dearest friends. I couldn't get a hold of her for permission, I always ask, but I'll bet she won't mind.

Friend voicemail: "Hello Richard Guillermo this is your friend I was calling you because you said that you weren't doing so well and I wanted to talk to you about that. I'm heading out now so don't call me back I'll be back home in about 30 to 40 minutes. But you know, you know your going to have bad days and its about that time when it hits you hard everytime and you know I worry about you. You need not to communicate with her I saw your attempted blog and you know you do this to yourself everytime. So anyway I'm heading over to my daughter's house briefly and then I'll be home,I love you  and I'll talk to you hopefully in about an hour you'll be able to pull your head out of your ass enough to speak to somebody.  I know its hard to talk to somebody when your head is in your ass cause you know it echoes. Alright love ya talk to you later."
Computer: end of voice message to save press 9 to delete press 7

"The great successful men of the world have used their imaginations, they think ahead and create their mental picture, and then go to work materializing that picture in all its details, filling in here, adding a little there, altering this a bit and that bit, but steadily building, steadily building."
- Robert Collier

I'm out of steam and have a pounding headache. Thank you for your time cause its the most precious gift we carry.So please spray the shoes and return them where you found them.I have many steps that await me.Goodnight