I know it's been such a long time since we last spoke, and I've been unable to face the truth or even 'see' you since the day I witnessed you being lowered into the cold, unforgiving earth. I'm haunted by the relentless thoughts of what happened. That perhaps, if I hadn't buried myself in work, if I hadn't constantly distanced myself or tried to find fault in our relationship through you, then I could have been there for you.. The thunder terrifes me. I used to scoff at others who cowered at the sound of thunder, but now I comprehend their terror all too well. Days like today, when thunderstorms increase and rage for what seems hours, force me into a state of diconnection. I find myself huddled in the darkest corner of our once-shared bedroom, left alone with my memories, dissosociating and hallucination. The tears flow uncontrollably as I realize how I failed you, how I allowed myself to arrive home at the oddest hours of the night. If only I had left the office sooner, I might have been there to shield you from the impending darkness that look you away from me. The guilt is starting to become too muvh I fear that maybe that darkness would consume me too,

Why. Why did you have to go. I know before we hadn't been talking as much, or well I haven't been. But why. You ruined me. I feel numb for most of the time that I'm conscious. Our bedroom is a torment, a place I can't set foot in without crumbling to pieces. I don't know when, or if, I'll ever regain any normalcy, and I hate you for it. Why the hell would you do this to me? Was I truly that awful? I never laid a hand on you, never subjected you to abuse. So why? There are moments when I drown my pain in alcohol, and the fury inside me threatens to break everything in of yours. I loathe you. I detest you. Yet, I love and miss you so much... so terribly much. I've contemplated selling the house, desperate to escape this living nightmare, to start anew. But I can't, not yet. When will I ever be okay again? Today, Peter tried to talk to me, but he couldn't bear to look at this hollow shell of a human being. I can't even hide the extent of my torment. He suggested I take some time off, and at first, I resisted because I have nowhere else to go but that damned house. We argued, mostly me, and now the office looks at me with judgmental eyes. Rumors have started, and I fucking hate every one of those insipid pieces of shit. You did this. You've wrecked me. Fuck you.