Marriage counseling is the last bastion. It is the taut and tenuous thread.

And the weight of us might be just too much to bear.

You say you don’t understand why I’m still here. You expect I’ll leave.

I say, You said you wanted to try and make it work. If you have no desire or will, refuse to put in the effort, then tell me to go.

It’s a game of chicken.

This has once again become what our marriage used to be. I do a good portion of the emotional and mental heavy lifting. You stand idly by.  I step forward. You step backwards. I reach out. You pull away.

And it’s okay if you can’t forgive me for my transgression. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to look at me with the simmering hatred of someone betrayed. But it is not okay to expect only one person to mend the fence when it took the two to let it fall into ruin in the first place.

I am not the only person at fault. Yet, am taking the full blame. I am not the only one in this marriage. Yet, working double time to try to make things right.

As always, my thin sliver of hope eternal keeps me going. My preposterous belief in a new day, a better tomorrow. The idiocy of my idealism is transparent and laughable, especially when you have already left, years ago.

“I don’t expect her to wait around for me.”

But I did. For a long time, I did. And still am.

But only because you fed that thin sliver that had faded to near nothingness. You fed it enough so it knew it was hungry, but not enough to keep it full.

I/it … again wasting away.