Chapter 2
I used to lie awake at night, dreams of a better tomorrow dancing in my mind, and, for a short while, drowning out my reality like the whiskey now does.
I am not the biggest fan of the taste of nicotine on my tongue, nor the smell that hangs like a veil over my body; however, I seem to find the constant need to inhale its gaseous fumes, allow the toxic chemicals to ventilate through my lungs just as easily as oxygen. I preferred the Cuban cigars that my father had tucked away in his study, but I wanted to saver those, preserve them for my worst nights, which left me to cigarettes and alcohol to calm my ever aching nerves.
I believe that I am just as sane as any person in this world, I believe every person is just as insane as the next. We all have a vindictive side, a murderous yet fearful side, and the side that brings you to the brink of madness; the only difference between the "good" and the criminals is that the "good" are better at hiding their disturbing traits which only peek when pushed as far as one can possibly go.
For as long as I can remember, I was a good person, only trapped by the horrors that awaited me in my home whilst daddy retreated into himself just as I now do, and mamma drank herself mad. I had always hoped I would turn out like a princess in a fairytale, laughing and crying while I fell in love again and again with a handsome young man, who looked at me with adorning eyes that bore into mine with love and admiration. I also dreamed of beautiful children, to watch them grow and mature, finding themselves just as easily as I had found myself, and seeing my grandchildren sprout in a sheltered, lovely world identical to the one where my children were raised. But it seems my train of dreams speeding towards reality fell off of the track before I could steer it back on in the right direction. I never noticed my life taking a wrong turn, never saw my fiery dreams slowly dying, until all that was left was ash and the memories of a creative childhood.
One day, I woke up with a harsh new realization that I was no longer in love with my future, but shocked and afraid of what was to become of me. I never saw it coming, I never saw my value diminishing everytime Jon touched me, or the spark of adrenaline that grew every time I drove to his house in secrecy, I never really saw anything. Everything that happened in that time felt so right that I never saw my perception of wrong being skewed.
I tried, many, many times to rid myself of the guilt I was feeling inside my stomach and mind. But, I felt like Jon and I were right, so incredibly, irrevocably right that nothing could be wrong. Our affair had been going on for months, and our shared fantasies cascaded into nothingness, and we were only left with the lustful nights we spent together while his wife was away, or in a random bed and breakfast off of the south shore. It was never the same hotel, because Jon cautioned that it would be to suspicious if we continued to awake our neighbors late at night. Someone would recognize us, approach us, question us, then acuse us. However, we had no choice but to take out chances with the hotel, or leave each other forever, which seemed like such a troubling, unbearable thought, that I could not even bring myself to consider it.
The expression," Love is blind." must be true. We were both blinded by a wish that would never come true, a lustful fantasy that others couldn't conjure up in their dizziest daydreams.
