Help me, please I need you, come see me. I have to tell you this, we need to figure it out together. I am trying not to write any more letters to you. Because maybe you only loved me when I was an organized woman who looked after you. I know I said I wanted to be here but I think I want to take that back. I told you to not listen to me when I say this because I was expecting that I would eventually say this. So I don’t understand if you really should listen to me. I don’t know what to ask for. I am between the devil and deep blue sea. Please don’t do this. But you might be wondering what not to do, I am wondering too, I wonder a lot and come to no conclusions so how am I expecting that you will understand the gibberish that I am talking. The snake nearly bit me, you know and you must be all about how am I going it deal with this, right?
I need you, Ben.
Ben, I am screaming like an idiot that’s not me. Help me. Take care of Nick, he’s acting strong but he is breaking apart, hold him, hold him tight.
I am rethinking why I decided to ignore the problem or pay less attention to my wife. But ever since Ciara was admitted into that mental asylum, there was nothing that I could have done. I visited her when I was permitted but I am not sure if she could figure that I was not a figment of her dreams but part reality’s thread.
It was Ciara and her psychiatrist’s decision to move her to the mental house. She wanted to be safe, not end up at places she didn’t know she had sleep walked to. Ciara also didn’t want me to see her as a weak woman and she didn’t want her son to have such disturbing memories of her as the last memories of his mother. And this dementia that she had, there was really no cure for it, leaving me a helpless man who was torn between begging for mercy from luck or letting it take her for all the pain that she felt.
I have read her letters repetitively; they help to feel what she felt during her last days. Some letters didn’t even make it to my home; I only received it with the news of her death, which was sudden and I couldn’t make it in time.
Wake up, wake up. wake Up, wake up, its all just a dream within a dream, it is not real and I have seven fingers on my left hand. No, reality would show me ten fingers. This can’t be happening, not really. It is hissing, it’s coming. It is dark as the devil, it is all shades of black, no grays even.
They took my books, I can’t make sense of words but that could be a code, it must be a crack that needs to be sorted so I can get out of this game. The snake calls it a game, it says that this is all just a game.
Ben, help xx