I wish I was happy.

That’s the thing about ending a relationship, especially one that lasted as long as ours. You weren’t happy to begin with, and then the whole process of ending things is unhappy, and then you find yourself anxious about the future and you wonder if you could, or even want to, find happiness with someone else. It sucks because I was always the thoughtful one in this relationship. She will isolate herself for sometimes weeks on end without giving a thought about the house, the pets, and even the kids. She would vehemently deny all this of course if confronted by a stranger or a friend, and she would be mad that I put it out there, but she can’t escape the truth. It doesn’t matter, though. She hasn’t ever visited this website, and the truth is, she doesn’t read my comics. I had to damn near force her to read “Kmart Shoes” back in 2013 and she read “Blood and Drugs” after everyone else who read it started raving about it. Whatever. That is just one of the plethora of things that made me realize I was with the wrong person. She feels the same way. I am no prize according to her. I am fat and bald. But especially fat. She has always hated ‘fat’. The kind of person that makes fun of fat people, and peoples looks in general, really. When I had my heart attacks and became disabled, I really started packing on the weight. Then I tried a crash diet and all I did was make my fat gut even bigger and more misshapen and it lead to sever health problems with my kidneys and joints. Oh well. It is what it is. I’ve made peace with my life and myself, except the weight. Believe me, when she leaves, I am going to change my whole lifestyle. Get back to the way I used to be before I met her. I rode bike and worked out. I ate healthy and I was really active. I went without food sometimes and was okay with it. I don’t get ‘hangry’. Anyway, here is a another diary comic from 2009.

I started smoking weed again shortly after I wrote this comic. The pot wasn’t the problem. My unhappiness in loveless marriage was and is my problem. Weed isn’t terrible and it isn’t addicting. Getting high to avoid addressing your problems ins addicting. Heroin is addicting. Alcohol is addicting. It’s hard to admit the truth, especially when there are children affected by your poor life choices. Did we make the right choice by staying together for all theses years for the sake of the children? We’ll never know. It doesn’t matter. The rest of my life will be my own.

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