she· verb

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You know,  the picture I've painted isn't as rosy as I portray it to be. I'm losing my marriage. The sense of it leaving is  physical and sometimes it's hard to breathe. There are huge and magnificent mistakes, betrayals, regrets falling into an unimaginable emptiness and they are never to be recovered or mended. I'm barely able to navigate the enormous expanse of space left behind.

I didn't want to write about it for two reasons.

1. The fear of becoming one of those online train wrecks, eliciting sympathy and/or recrimination from anonymous readers.

2. The fear of betraying a confidence. 

I say now, fuck both of those reasons. Aside from a treasured few, do I really care what the internet at large has to tell me? I've been, for reasons as of yet unknown to me,  writing this for almost longer than I have been married. And confidences? I am sick to death of  hiding behind a facade intended to make my life appear something that's worth reading about.

It's not.

It's a colossal mess.

This is what's happening to me now and I can't stop it. I'm tired of lying. I'm in big trouble.

Go tell that lonesome liar
Go tell that midnight rider
Tell the gamblin', ramblin' backslider
Tell them God Almighty gonna cut 'em down

You might run on for a long time
Run on, ducking and dodging
Run on, children, for a long time
Let me tell you God Almighty gonna cut you down