Having someone but not really having someone.
It was like living with a stranger.
The sickening feeling you'd have when you knew it was time to put on the act of 'happily married', 'so in love'.
I thought of myself as being realist. Never forcing something that wasn't meant to be, being true to myself, the ability to handle situations accordingly and not get caught up in fantasy. You know?
Clearly my assumption of myself was completely and utterly wrong.
Here I was.
Alone but not really alone.
As I sat in bed, unsure as to where my husband could be and whether he was coming home, I decided it was time.
It was time to end this.
I wondered for awhile, why I had let this go on for so long?
Was there a small part of me that wanted this to work? Probably.
Was I afraid that this was all I was worth? Yes.
That, if he doesn't love me, no one else would ever love me? Yes.
These weren't enough for me to warrant staying in this anymore. Deep down I knew those reasons were stupid. They'd just clouded my mind for so long they just became engrained in me.
I decided the only respectful way to do this was to write.
After a many attempts and hours, I'd finally gotten it right.
I'd like to thank you for all the good things.
But, there isn't any.
I bid you adieu.
Seems bitchy, I know.
But if you were in my shoes, you'd have done the same.
This man had degraded me, cheated, lied and left me to fend for myself one too many times. I'm a grown woman but marriage is supposed to be love, commitment, something I never received from the start.
I was over it.
I began throwing everything I owned into one of his duffle bags. I emptied out all my jewellery. I slid off the rings and placed, what seemed like handcuffs for the past three years, on his nightstand on top of my heartfelt note.
Not that he would even notice anyway.
Weight was lifting from my shoulders, heartache and sadness was drifting away. I wasn't sad to be leaving any of this. This was never a home.
I'd almost hoped that he would have walked in as I was leaving, that he'd beg me to stay, that he'd change. Of course I knew this would never happen but it was a nice thought though.
I dragged the duffle bag down the stairs and into the foyer. I made sure to leave everything as it was.
With one last gaze over the place I'd called home for the past three years, I dropped my spare key into the pot next to the door and made a beeline for my car.
The stormy night seemed fitting.
As drove, lightening lit up the sky and I could hear the muffled drumming of thunder rattle around me.
I had time to reflect, not that there was any need to but I guess, you'll always think about whether you should have said more, should have said less...
In my case, less was more. He would know. I highly doubt this would have much effect on him considering he barely acknowledged my existence and was out majority of week nights anyway.
Although I wondered whether maybe he'd stop, just for a moment and maybe think 'shit, I should've done more'.
Again, highly unlikely.
I decided I needed to rid my thoughts.
That'll do it.
I pulled into what looked to be a shabby little truck stop along the highway.
The front was lined with road trains and bikes with the occasional.
The inside was dimly lit, the assualt of smoke and barbequed meat on my nostrils didn't go unnoticed.
I was hungry though.
As soon as I pushed through the door, the head of every single person in this tiny place snapped towards me.
I suddenly realised after taking in my surroundings that this probably wasn't just a "shabby little truck stop" at all...