Another day of struggle.
Another day of triggers.
Another day of carefully layered mascara.
Another day with an hour spent on careful preparation of my appearance. Then I recant -wipe away half of my art. (I do not want to appear to be trying too hard) So, it’s just
Another wasted effort. Re-entrance to the outside atmosphere, where other women wait, and it just becomes
Another moment I wish to crawl out of my skin.
Another day, day of the past – you were soft and humble. You spoke gently. Your smile was warm, hopeful. But today is not that day.
Today is the day an unrelenting demon whispers in my ear. He reminds me that you desire the beautiful women only, the plastics.
But, today there is a counterpart to this caveat. The demon of pride stokes my soul. He turns, grimacing, reminding me that I am worthy of more. He induces flashbacks. It’s the silence and cold air that you held between us for a decade. The remembrance of loneliness is almost unbearable. Then he reminds me to continue –
Another day of questioning the truth.
Another day of wanting answers I may never receive.
Another day that I realize that I was married to a facade – a loyal one.
Another day of small glimpses of the old you starting to emerge again.
Another day that I fear something even scarier than the reemergence of the old you – that is the old me.
Another day turned to a night of prayer:
Please God, let tomorrow be not another today.