At my most honest, I am ashamed

I knew I hated you and a child would never change you, but I didn't know how to leave. So I grew a person to share in my misery. I knew that was selfish but I knew better how to lie to myself, "Everything will work out for the best".

I knew that my troubles lived in my mind and within our bed and within our conversations but I convinced us to move 1,000 miles away to escape those troubles. The troubles grew more hateful but now I was away from the help of friends, and away from the shame of their knowing.

I knew our son was not thriving with you but you did not know how to earn money, and we were hungry. I left you two alone and hoped for the best and let you spend all the money I made, because that would make you happy. But I knew that the happiness didn't last long and niether did the food.

I knew the 1,000 mile journey to our home would mean a lower cost of living which we needed now that you knew that working was less frustrating than staying home with a baby. I didn't know then that our time together was almost over but the hopelessness was not.

I knew that I would put up with all of your actions because everyone knows children need two parents. But I didn't know that you were capable of demanding sex, indifferent of my clearly stated disgust and pain. And it was then, that I knew where I drew the line.

I knew that being a single mother would be difficult but I had no idea I'd be so hungry and so poor and so depressed.

I jokingly thought to myself today "I'm so hungry I might could give a blow job for a cart of groceries" and then I realized, I couldn't or I'd still be with you.

And a few hours later, hungrier still, I wondered if I ever really knew anything at all.