And counting…

by nixandco

18 has grown to 19 under my gaze, but never my blessing.

270 seconds in the ring?

Try 2 million seconds of knowing you’ve lost your husband’s heart. That he’d rather be elsewhere: That his time and mind IS elsewhere, even when it’s under your roof.

2 million seconds of faking a life, bruising as husbands and wives around compliment each other, hold each other, make memories and live.

2 million seconds of self doubt, physical insecurity – the most normal things rendered new and awkward. The calendar an instrument of pain.

2 million seconds of double think: Are you making effort or faking till you make it? Are you building bridges or going through the motions? Is this effort or trial?

2 million seconds of paranoia, panic, insecurity with no cushion, no safety blanket. No full stop on the past, barely even a semi colon.

2 million seconds of breath holding, water treading.

The future changeable in a minute.

But every minute telling an unchanging story.