I am in the midst of being very unhappy, so much so, that everything rationale in my mind is screaming at me to make a break with my marriage.
I am held together by a set of values and beliefs which are so incredibly strong that despite all the silence, all the longings, all the thinking, I continue to endure and perservere in the long-held hope that one day I will find peace.
I’ve become attached to things, the granite kitchen worktop, the electric garage door, the indian sandstone patio – I rage inside at the foolishness of my obsession with being comfortable, and my obsession with the fear of losing a hold on all the things which my hard work has purchased in recent years.
I am prioritising the dead stones over the living flesh off my constricted heart, which beats out of rhythm under the immense strain of it all.
I’ve become attached to things, I’ve become attached to the comforts I have secured in the material life which I have amassed in recent years. I’ve become attached to a way of life which is utterly incompatible with who I am.
But….I love my wife and so I should at least find the courage to tell her that I am dying on the inside, whilst the stones which surround us, shine and glisten with each wipe of the cloth or the fall of rain.