I Got Out

I got out because I looked into my future and saw a me that was dark in a melancholic aversion of happiness. I thought of the children we talked of having and cognized a hypocrite as I visualized the conversations I’d have with my daughter. I envisioned she see my words and hear my actions as I epitomized lovelessness.

I would be equal to the many women who preached about finding a good man and had trash pandas lurching in their habitats of sorrowful settlement. There was a rush of “get the ring, then love will sing.” They missed their captain.

I cringe at the pensiveness that I carried with this man. I visualized the silence of indignation that poured out of me and taught my children that the behavior I received and experienced was okay. I could conceive the acceptance of cruel mishandling. I could birth souls of non-committal exclusivity. I could develop the thoughts that think they’re in control, but they’re mistakingly losing their hearts to the game's corrupted wisdom.

I want to give my children a head start. I want them to see God’s love ejected from the roots of a stable foundation. I want to show them the beauty of sacrifice and delayed gratification. I want them to grow in a physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually stable home.

My children could see quarrels galore. They could meet idealized demons of dejection. They could lie imagining a world of perfection and grace, believing those things only happen on TV. They could believe love is a capitalistic tool that boosts the economy. They could see a loveless marriage. But that’s not what they’ll see because that curse ended with me.