Step Right Up

i'm standing at home plate. the bat hovering over my shoulder. i'm looking hard at the pitcher wondering what pitch he's gonna throw this time. will it be a slow ball? maybe a curve. i've got a full count. 3 balls & 2 strikes. that fucking pitcher is my husband & he's got evil in his eyes. he may even aim for my head at this point just to show me he can. you know what i did? i dropped the bat & walked off the field. i'm not standing against him anymore. i'm not playing his game anymore. i quit. who else wants to step up to the plate? who else wants to play against a drunk?
yep, he's drinking again. this week he's drank 2 days already (that i know for sure) & its only thurs.
you know what i want to do? i want to get rip roaring drunk. i don't know why. maybe just to drown my depression. maybe to show him how nasty a drunk i can be.
i'm not pretty today. i don't even look good today. hell, i'm ugly today. thats what he does to me. they say at the aa meetings i'm an enabler. what else am i supposed to do? i have to work, i can't babysit him everyday all day long. i have to pay my bills, i have to have a home, i have to eat. how do you not enable a drunk? lose everything & go sleep on the river bank in a cardboard box? well, sorry, i can't live like that.
you know something else? i'm not worrying about him anymore. if he wants to be a drunk he can knock himself out. next time he has a seizure he can lay in it & when he comes to make his own decisions. next time i'll let him chew his fucking tongue off. and we all know there will be a next time. from here on out its just gonna get worse.
who wants my bat & glove? they're up for grabs. first come...first served. haha, served, who wants a drink?
later.