I haven’t really been lying, technically. For a year now, you’ve
asked how my day was, what I’ve done with my “time off,” and my
brush-off response has been “You know, same shit, different day.” It’s
true—I’ve been doing the same shit, day after day. I haven’t been
looking for work. I’ve been holed up by myself, avoiding our friends,
avoiding my family, lying to everyone, pretending everything’s okay,
listening to our neighbors come and go—off to their jobs, on
vacation, out to parties, to restaurants, to the movies. Worrying about
how I’m going to pay for my part of the rent and the bills, because
although I was able to carry you so many of those times over the years,
I know you can’t afford to do the same for me, and my time is running
out.
But I’m afraid to leave our home. It takes an act of will to even
open the front door. I want to hide in here until someone can fix my
life, so I don’t have to do it myself. But I know that someone can’t be
you, that it has to be me. I know you’re tired and disappointed. I am,
too. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I never wanted to be
this way. I never imagined I could be this way. I’m sorry.
—Anonymous
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