(no subject)
I'm standing on a deserted beach by myself. Waves are rushing past me, and I can feel the wetness of the sand beneath my toes. The sun beats down on my neck. I blink and I'm floating on a cloud with rainbows. Bright colors are souring past me and I can feel the texture and emotion of everything. I see him standing on the edge of a cliff. It's Fritz. He stands steadily looking down at the huge cliffs beneath him. He stands on the plateau staring down with his piercing eyes. I feel a soothing breeze float around. In the blind of an eye the wind pushes him. He goes shooting into the depths of the cliffs. Suddenly I'm lying on something soft. It's unrecognizable. I feel soft cotton brush against my face. I sit up. I'm sitting in my room breathing hard. I have broken out into a cold sweat. I look next to me expecting to see Fritz asleep. The bed is empty.
So Fritz is gone. I don't know where. It's been 5 days. Stella wants to know where her daddy is. I don't know what to tell her. It's hard to lie to a child when you're lying to yourself. I keep convincing myself he's going to walk in the doors any moment saying he got caught at work. In my heart I know it isn't true. I can't picture where he is. Why he left. What I should tell my children. The "oh daddys stuck at work" excuse can't last for much longer. I know I can't go to the police. It's not like he's being held hostage. He left himself.
I feel like a part of him is still here. I open his drawers and I smell him. I hear his voice and laughter echoing off our walls. I see him looking at me from the pictures on the wall. I feel him everywhere. I may never have thought I really loved him at the time. But now that hes gone I feel alone.
So Fritz is gone. I don't know where. It's been 5 days. Stella wants to know where her daddy is. I don't know what to tell her. It's hard to lie to a child when you're lying to yourself. I keep convincing myself he's going to walk in the doors any moment saying he got caught at work. In my heart I know it isn't true. I can't picture where he is. Why he left. What I should tell my children. The "oh daddys stuck at work" excuse can't last for much longer. I know I can't go to the police. It's not like he's being held hostage. He left himself.
I feel like a part of him is still here. I open his drawers and I smell him. I hear his voice and laughter echoing off our walls. I see him looking at me from the pictures on the wall. I feel him everywhere. I may never have thought I really loved him at the time. But now that hes gone I feel alone.