Posted by drummer (209.105.134.136) on July 10, 1999 at 23:44:27:
The mirror that once hung on the living room wall now lays shattered on the floor. The furniture in the room has been tossed aside. I’m on my knees in front of the couch. My elbows resting on the edge, my hands holding my head. I’m shaking and fighting the urge to vomit. My six-year-old daughter enters the room.
Daughter: “Daddy, are you ok?”
Me: “Uh huh.”
Daughter: “I was watching you.”
Me: “Honey, you’re not supposed to do that.”
Daughter: “I know. I saw you punch the mirror.”
Me: “mmmm.”
Daughter: “Your hand is bleeding.”
Me: “I’m ok.”
Daughter: “Mommy is upstairs crying.”
Me: “Uh huh.”
Daughter: “Why did you ask God to kill you?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
Daughter: “Daddy? I hope you don’t get another headache.”
Me: “Me too honey.”
Daughter: “I wish I had a regular daddy.”
Me: “I know. I’m sorry.”