You didn't answer

The last few days have been really hard for me. Lots of doubt, lots of questions, lots of pain.

I had to go interstate and leave you at home. You knew that this caused me grief because we spoke about. You promised me that you would not let me down. You even made a suggestion that we went together on the weekend, but as usual that just didn't fit with your work commitments. Funny that, heh? Same old, same old, isn't it Charlie?

So I packed the car and left after grabbing some crap to eat on the way at the local drive thru. God I hate that crap, but I just wanted to reach my destination to see my kids.

I had only travelled 25 minutes into the trip and had to call you for something. I can't remember what it was but it was probably not anything of significance.

You didn't answer.

I went numb. I broke out in a sweat. My heart raced.

I was driving but really cannot remember anything else. I was in a daze. This wasn't happening. You wouldn't do this to me, would you?

I had to swallow to stop myself from throwing up. I didn't want to pull over because I knew that I would be violently ill on the side of the road. Not only that, but if I pulled over I would turn back and I knew I had no choice but to keep going.

So I drove.

With my heart in my throat and sweat dripping down my face, I drove.

And then you called.

I was in tears, just about hysterical. I didn't even want to answer my phone. I didn't want to speak to you. I didn't want to hear the inevitable.

But I answered.

You knew I was distressed. I was sobbing. But I couldn't speak to tell you what was wrong. I just drove whilst crying down the phone line into your ear that was miles away.

You had no idea what was wrong. You asked me, but still I could not speak. You continued to ask but the words would not come out. They were stuck behind my lunch that sat at the back of my throat, waiting to be rejected by my body.

I finally calmed down enough to speak.

I screamed at you. I yelled abuse at you. I ranted. I swore at you, calling you all sorts of names.

You cried with me. You apologised and again promised that you would not let me down. You simply couldn't get your phone out of your pocket in time to answer it before it diverted to message bank.

I fucking hate my life at the moment. So much distrust, so much scepticism, so much doubt, so much paranoia, so much pain.

Thanks Charlie for turning such an everyday trip to visit my parents into a living fucking nightmare for me.

From the bottom of my heart......thank you.