Smokey Robinson

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So take a good look at my face. You’ll see my smile looks out of place. If you look closer, it’s easy to trace the tracks of my tears……

For the last week, I’ve only written a little here. Mostly because I’ve had no issues to deal with.  I’ve been with my sister, my oldest friend, my father, my step-mother.  They’ve let me had a break from the constant flagellation that I’ve been inflicting on myself.

I can’t talk to them about the worst things I’ve done, sleeping with someone, two someones, who are not my husband.  I’m afraid of their judgement, but I don’t think anyone could judge me as roughly as I do myself.  That’s been nice to get away from the guilt.

Talked to my husband a few minutes ago. He thinks that it’s not going to work, me moving away. I don’t know what he means by “work”, but it isn’t going to be easy.  Easy would be moving down into town, but that would mean paying out the nose for a rent that I’m not willing to pay.  So my option is buying a place far away that I can afford, with a room in town for the nights that I can’t do the commute.  It isn’t easy, but it’s a good investment, and might work out.  I’m giving it a year.

The moment my old friend left, I started back in with the guilt and the tears again. And the fear.

The only thing that is easier now is that I really don’t feel anything but kind affection for my husband.  I don’t feel like I need him, or want him, but I do like him. It’s not enough at my age to want to stay with someone for the rest of my life. I do want sex.  I do.  And I don’t want to have to lie about it.

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