Some impassioned exchanges this afternoon re-emphasized the disparity in at least one of our top (non)priorities, and brought very close to the surface my belief that I will never be truly happy --whatever that means, in addition to 'something that I'm definitely NOT'-- with my wife. That doesn't suggest that I sense any assurance of being happy with someone else, or even being able to be happy with MYSELF, for starters, because I don't. But I really don't see anything resembling a path toward real happiness in this marriage, even a path that's covered with some undergrowth and just needs a good weed-whacking. Were it not for the kids and my paycheck, I'd almost certainly be referring to my "wife," to her in that title, in the past tense.
Tonight as I drove alone down one of the canyons, I thought at length of how easy it would be to slam my car into the face of one of the cliffs that stand just a few yards from the shoulder, and make it look like a slip-off in the snow. My ridiculously-bloated life insurance policy would take care of everyone comfortably.
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