I have no time for anything except worry

 I carry inside me the knowledge of failure and the anxiety it produces. I wonder how many strangers I meet have similar awareness.  

I think it goes away when I hold my cat, or gaze into my favorite art or listen to a song I like. 

Or when my friends the ravens coast by my mountain window. Their feathers the perfect black. 

I can’t get out of my box. My small box. I am at the bottom so far away from all of you. I can never “catch up” with my life. It’s useless to try when anxiety prevents me from determined effort. I have no time for anything except worry. 

I’ve noticed that my ex is a routine communicator when there’s a third person on the email or text string  she shows her organization and team spirit, and says thank you regularly  Her signature line says “ warmly.”

She deletes the signature line and the cheerful demeanor when it’s just me  I wonder why  I assume it’s because all she cares about is getting the rest of her marital assets  

I’ll never know  she doesn’t think I’m worth the time of day, dead or alive  

What a terrible terrible mistake I made, letting her into my life  I feel like I was tortured and maimed by my marriage  

A picture on the wall before my death. What is the look on my face?  Numb surrender?  Battered wariness?  A final goodbye to all this?  Silence.  

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