Lemon Law / Crawling In My Skin

god, I hate myself. I can't believe how much I've fucked up, how fucked up I am. I had the best wife I could ask for and a far better match for me than anyone I've ever met or seen. She used to love me so much, she'd sit up nights waiting for me and she'd be happy when I came home, not grumpy like nowadays, like every day. She'd write me letters even when we lived together, she'd make books for me telling me the story of our love, and I did nothing but hurt her again and again, make her lose first her trust and then her love. I see it everywhere, every day. She forgets the baby monitor is on and I hear the phone beep as she scrolls through the caller ID list. She looks in my wallet to check my receipts and look for phone numbers. She looks in my briefcase, and my cell phone address book and recent calls. I get a call at home from a friend while I'm in the shower so I answer it on the first ring and tell him I'll call him back. When I check the computer's History later I see she googled the area code to see where I was getting a quick call from. God, I think I've ruined it forever. It will never be the same. And it was wonderful.

I certainly got wired wrong from the factory because there is no explanation for why I've always been such a fuckup. I had this windup teddy bear with a music box inside and I can remember being four years old and staying up late at night, alone in the dark, listening to it over and over, thinking about how achingly sad and lonely this one riff, these three or four notes sounded. Most four year olds are not like that. Thirty years since I've turned that key, and those notes haunt me even to this day.





The worst part is she has no idea. I shut her out completely, so she has no idea how I really feel. She thinks I'm just this nothing person who sits on the computer and ignores her, doesn't care about her, prefers surfing the web or messenging my buddies more than talking to her. She doesn't know I'm dying inside, wishing I could be productive, get on with my life, with our lives, be nice to her, do more work around the house, recultivate my interests and hobbies, just not be a ghoul with no lifeforce. And I'm too scared to tell her. I'm too timid to really tell her how I feel about anything. So she has only the faintest idea of who I really am. Isn't that wild?





I really wish I could kill myself but I have a daughter now, and my poor dad, he's been through so much, had his heart broken so many times starting from childhood. It might make him feel like he's cursed, when really I'm the one who's cursed. And there's my mom, my sister, my wife, they would all be so sad. Not really anyone else; I have some friends who'd be sad but not really. Mostly people would laugh at me, all the people who were jealous of me, the people who find me threatening and easy to hate for being smart, the people who look down on me for how fucked up I was and how easy to rip off. So i won't be killing myself any time soon. By the time it'll be okay to, it'll be too late to bother, and if you think about it or use a life expectancy calculator it's not likely I'll make it to that point anyhow. So I just have to hang in there and keep being a fuckup until I can punch out or it happens for me. Overall, what a shit life it's been so far, and what a pathetic waste and a joke it's about to be for the next twenty years as they whiz by. If you think about it, twenty christmases is nothing.