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Every human being can end suffering completely. I have not found the right way to end mine, but the thought torments me so much, I write short stories in a journal instead.
As with all journals, this one is no different in its goal to reach you some day, when the manuscript is published, and much to my shame. I must tell you all about last night, of why I committed such a despicable act against you, against us.
Perhaps I ceased to believe in a future and my faith was so drained that now objects lie about me at the scene where I raged yesterday. Something went wrong inside my consciousness, something cataclysmic occurred between yesterday and this morning. All I have left is a lifelong guilt.
You misunderstood how a call from an old acquaintance ended up in our phone's answering service. I did not invite him into my sex life, lover. We've been cut off from others during our honeymoon, so I was lonely, and engaged small talk with the first acquaintance I came across.
Not even sex is enough to make the laptop sing today. Cursed, I am! Not even rabidly vivid memories of making love to each other offer a respite from what my life has become. I used to work for the money. I used to do it for love. Now, no more. We shall meet again if there is an afterlife.
© Text: Orlando Barahona
© Image: Sam Leighton/Flickr
This work by Orlando Barahona is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. 
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