Tuesday.
Dearest,
I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer.
I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been.
V.
It has been
One month and 5 days
Since
A fire of unknown origin
Took my baby away
Baby
I've been here before
I've seen this room
I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I can't write my own
Words
Happiness
is a sin
It's a cold
and b
r o
k e
n
.
links:
“I’m a closet optimist.”
"I can't fight any longer"
“Patti, did art get us?"
