Okay, go with me here for a minute if you would like. I am feeling very passionate about the love of my life, Mr. B!
Mr. B has been in my life since I was 20 years old. By 20 I thought I would grow old alone, never to fall in love with anyone who would fall back in love with me. I had been hurt enough by that point of my life that I was not WILLING to fall in love, in fact; by then I thought love was a hoax.
You see, before I get into what my heart wants to write today I have to confess a few things about my life. My confession comes to you with pure intent. To give you a bit of background you probably don't know about me.
I may come off as a whiner sometimes in my posting, because truly I am blessed. And I am very grateful, but I have a few problems which cloud my ability to be capable and happy. These are not your run of the mill problems. I have suffered from self induced addictions, I suffer from depression now, and not the just having a down day kind of depression, the debilitating kind. I also have anxiety, and I am a bit of a hoarder. I am afraid to throw anything away. I grew up really poor, and moved often. Actually moved at least once a year. I had lived in what some would consider stable homes until I was 9, but those homes also had trouble. The kind of trouble children recognize, and childhood is not all it is cracked up to be. I think at last count I had lived in 13 homes by the time I was 15, and at 16 I was abandoned by my mother, given up to the state by my father, and adopted into a foster home, so home #14. I consider my home now sweet 16, and being a bit OCD; and liking odd numbers, I always fear that I will lose the life I know.
But, sweet 16 is where I have spent the last 16 years of my life. My life with Mr. B.
This week I want to write the legends of Mr. B. My life with him up to now. I have been dealing with this awful depression, and he is patiently suffering with me. I think a tribute to this man is worth it's weight in words. Follow me as we go back rhetorically and laugh, cry and love him. It isn't much, but it is what I have to offer him.
Happy Valentines B.
'Will you, um, marry me?' I haven't seen you in weeks! You don't look happy or excited about the prospect of our marriage! You're asking me to give up my - my freedom, my joie de vivre for an institution that fails as often as it succeeds? And why should I marry you anyway? I mean, why do you wanna marry me? Besides some bourgeois desire to fulfill an ideal that society embeds in us from an early age to promote a consumer capitalist agenda?