By Patti Blue Hayes
At 2:30AM, sitting in a rental car outside a bar in Cambridge, MA, my husband said, “I don’t think we should be married anymore.” An hour earlier, I’d grabbed his phone, curious as to whom he kept texting all night. He told me about two casual sex partners he’d had in the past six months, but my mind raced backwards in time to calculate the exact time he began his infidelity.
It was two years. After reading back in my journals (a real one; n…
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The fact that no one understands you doesn’t mean you’re an artist. – Unknown Author
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