23 November 2011
I have been avoiding Angelo. I don’t have the courage to face him after I lured him into my insanity. Sure, it wasn’t intentional…or was it? Maybe, just a bit. I was just feeling down and who can ever recover from a deep wound of knowing your husband, whom you’ve given your entire life—for me, entire, yes—to live with him eternally, is a closet homosexual who used you to cover his…bent—obviously it wasn’t straight—feelings toward a GUY!
If this journal could ever speak, it would certainly say,
“Grow up, Suzanne! You’re an adult now! Go file a divorce like your parents had just months ago and save yourself from further pain!”
Only if I can, only if I can…the only thing that stops me from doing so is…the bed-arrest—obviously, the in-laws are living in this house…and it’d take hell to make them leave this place. The very best thing that I can do is to drink bottles of Morphine—not in an addicted way—the entire day. My body starts to deteriorate lately…that’s what my doctor tells me. My sickness even adorned my once perfectly healthy body with sarcastically beautiful amethyst gems which we call bruises, it does hurt like any normal bruise you get from an injury.
Often, my doctor brings me bags of blood, one of the hardest to find, AB-. Blood scares me. It reminds me of my nearing death. I’m not even sure if leukaemia can stop someone to have her menstrual period, because I’m lucky that I didn’t have it. I personally don’t want to visit the comfort room just to change my tampon—but I prefer a sanitary napkin.
Angelo visits me regularly, though. But I don’t do much. I only nod and speak when it’s necessary. I’m bed-bound. Running when he visits is not sane. It only makes everything worse.
I can write, but only a bit…and my handwriting has gone wayward.
Hoping I can still live and write,
Suzanne
YOU ARE READING
Suzanne's Diary
RomanceSuzanne Dodds always believed that she was like the mediocre people, but she realizes that she shines brighter when she already was in a brink of dying.
