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November 2010 Volume 12 , Issue 11 submit to us!

by Michael Jenkins -- Contributing Author [Email This Story]

It's an obvious truth that nobody wants to get nailed by an oncoming train, I know that. It was one of the saddest moments of my life when I heard the news that you were sitting unconscious in the hospital, and the doctors didn't have any idea when you would snap out of it, if at all. It was tragic, it really was.

But my love for you would not give up any inkling of hope for you; for us. Every day, every day for 8 months I came to the hospital to visit you, and held your limp hand, just hoping, praying for you to squeeze back, to let me know that we would be whole again. I missed your laugh, your stark sarcasm, and the apparent aloofness that you portrayed in order to cheer me up when I was feeling down. I did anything I could to see a small smirk to come across your face to give me just a little reminder of the happiness I could make for you.

And now, after 8 months, you're awake again. And you're being a real bitch.

Listen, Honey, I've told you time and time again that with our budget, we can't go out every single night of the week. I'm working my ass off in order to provide us with a better life, but you just want to go ahead and blow it all on concerts, fine dining, fancy clothing, and exotic trips that I can't even go on because I have to work longer hours to pay for it. You used to have a little humility, but you've changed. Now you're all, "Gimme gimme gimme!" And worse yet, you don't even thank me.

Yes, you're right; we could all die tomorrow and everything would have been for naught, but you have to have faith that you're not going to die tomorrow, otherwise I won't be able to retire until I'm 106. Just take it easy, alright? I'm sorry about the coma, I am. However, we have to go on as it was before. I can't stand your temper-trantrums when you don't get what you want, calling me a lousy person and a terrible provider. It's ridiculous and humiliating, especially when you do it in public. I don't deserve that.

Sometimes at night, before I fall asleep for 4 hours between my 2 jobs, I listen to your horrendous snoring, and I remember how peaceful and romantic your coma days were. It was a beautiful gesture when I came in your room with fresh flowers every other day, enthusiastic that the smell would arouse your awakening, and how everyone watched with a tearful eye as I held your hand and told you about my day, about the beautiful things going on in the world that you needed to see. Oh, how those nurses wanted to bang me! But I didn't, I focused on you, and this is what I get.

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Features -- November 2010 -- Mid Month Issue