Maybe this will take some time to explain.

I had a friend who died last February.


I told him I could only be his friend.
I told him that I was in love with Bill...


He found something in me
 compelling...lovable.
Go figure...but, yes, he did.

He THOUGHT he was in love with me.
We had a parting of ways that involved him
 saying that he couldn't deal with me being in 
love with Bill anymore. 

I swear I was HONEST!
I didn't lead him on...

but something in him still thought he loved me.
And that night that he said he couldn't deal
with me and Bill anymore...

he took some vodka, and some pills..
out into the woods..

and he drank the vodka..and took the pills..

and he went to sleep...

and froze to death.

And for the last year, I have
been trying to kill
whatever it was in me that killed him.

I have tried to submerge my personality
as much as possible.
I have nearly stopped painting.
I have lost interest in sex.
I have dressed like a construction worker.
I stopped talking to people.
I stopped being alluring, attractive, desirable
funny, smart, ...human.
I have tried to die without having
to leave my husband
and my children, Mother,
and pets....without ducking out
on what I owe to them.

I have tried to pay for what I did.

God help me..I have tried.

I guess that's all...
perhaps writing this is
the first step
at some
resolution.

I need some
because my family deserves
more than just a body.