When, not If

I’ve read a few stories of sexual abuses, and I can relate. I guess that’s a round about way of putting it. After finding myself with no place to live at eighteen, I joined the Marines. After boot camp, I married my high school sweetheart, who then had an affair with my neighbor while I was at work. Shortly after discovering that, while working through a law suit, I had to then work through no pay due for three months… Begging charities to put food on the table for my wife who was sleeping around behind my back.

I meet a new woman, who’s the love of my life. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, someone I could respect and trust. Shortly after us marrying, she convinces me to leave the military, and we move to a home away from both of our families. It just so turns out that not only is the area economically depressed, it’s also known for prison releases and meth. To top it off, the love of my life, the woman who had been holding me together through diagnosed major anxiety and depression told me that she no longer loved me, and left. So now I am here alone, with no family, no friends, no wife, mental issues bordering on uncontrollable at times, and a trusty sidearm, good rope.

I told my second wife that I’d never love anyone else after her, that she had my last capacity for love. I guess I just didn’t understand at the time by what means I was willing to keep that promise. Wasted youth. Twenty four and down the tube.