Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-35654578-20180702163053/@comment-29435884-20180705045438

I exist. And yet, existing is all that I do.

I wake up every morning in a cold, empty bed. I miss the feeling of red arms wrapped around me, I miss waking up to a gentle kiss on the cheek and a warm smile.

At work I’m on autopilot, just going through the motions. They say that keeping busy is the best way to deal with grief, but I can’t bring myself to care. I’m not invested, I’m not motivated. I just do what I’m told and keep conversation with my workmates down to the task at hand.

I go to the pub every evening to drown my sorrows, but even this has lost its charm. I miss telling jokes with my beautiful wife and hearing her loud laughter and I miss the companionship of matching each other drink for drink. As it stands I just look like another lonely deadbeat pissing his life away.

When the last round is called, or I’m thrown out for being too drunk to serve, I stumble home alone, the strong arm that used to support me is gone.

I return to an empty house, missing the pitter patter of little feet rushing to meet their daddy. There’s no little horned foreheads to kiss in greeting. Not anymore.

I crash out for the night and dream of a happier time. I know tomorrow is a different day, but every day is exactly the same.