There was a sandwich waiting for me on my breakfast table in the morning, so from the jump off I was amazed and energized. I guessed she’d forgiven me, which was pleasingly ahead of schedule. It was my favorite sandwich, eggs and sausage, but I couldn’t eat it. I’d cheated on my wife, and the impact of this betrayal hit me in my soul, looking at the sandwich. I decided that I couldn’t eat through the guilt, so I went to apologize, tearful and loving. When I opened the door she tried to stab me, talk about a crazy morning.
Hanging on a ledge by my fingertips, I jeopardize myself like this, and I know this, but I’m not worried.
I could die today and it wouldn’t really make a difference.
Not to me anyway, and they would all get past it eventually.
Probably, really they’d be better off, and let’s face it so would I.
Imagine all the heartbreak and pain I wouldn’t have to experience, and all the disappointments I would never visit on my loved ones.
It would be simple, and I’d never hurt anyone again.
But I’m only ten, and it’s my birthday party.