Oh my God

I just went upstairs and my wife was there in the amazingly beautifully decorated baby's room (all her), reading to our baby, after her bath. My wife is so simple and wonderful, she has plans and does them and that's that. No clouded thoughts, no million-line long list of To Do's or Want To Do's. Yet here I am downstairs, with my pile of wires under and around the desk, computer half open with the side of the case off, cyber-researching this litle 25 year old chick with big perfectly round close together canteloupe tits and a very flirty attitude who works at the copy shop, deleting my history and cookies and temporary internet files every time I think I'm almost busted, with 18 browser windows open and a messy desk.

I really should be put down like a sick animal, or medicated heavily, or have someone take charge of my life and get me out of this rut. I'm a nice guy with a massive potential - really I could be a terrific husband and employee and friend - but so far my life is let's say half over, and no luck yet. Sometimes I just hate myself, I think about some of the things I've done to people and some of the ways I hurt people. So I say fire away. Really the only person who would be sad would be my wife. She'd be devastated. Not my mom, not my dad (I'm sure I'm a failure in his eyes, I bet I'm exactly like the flaky son in Parenthood), not my best friends - I'm not sure they care much about me anyway. Not really. Maybe the only reason I'm being spared is for my wife's sake.

I forgot I decided long ago I can only really save one person, not all these whores and incest survivors - not even two or three, just one person. I decided to sacrifice my life for my wife's; my single life chasing women, to get married so that I would make my wife happy. I sure haven't done a very good job of either thing.