I think I first realized there was a problem when I looked around and saw that I cared more about what you thought of me than what I thought of myself. Here you are, should I smile for you? Yes, keep my tears for the dark. Thinking, "Oh, God, don't let me fail." Knowing that if I was strong enough I could stick this out.

Sitting on the floor singing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" for the millionth time. I'm tired and I hate this song. Yet when you walk in the door I want nothing more than to sing it again, if only to drown out the monotony of how your day was. I want out. I want to take her and run away to a magical place full of roses and fairies. But there you sit, droning on and on. Not really caring if I hear you, just needing to be the center of attention.

When we go to bed I put her between us and huddle close to the wall.

"I prefer to be close to the wall." I say. Maybe the truth is that I put her between us because you should and never do. My sweet little girl who was a gift to us, and who you barely acknowledge because she's too short to see over your shoulder in the mirror.

I smile when you leave for work, and then sit for hours holding her and watching T.V. I don't really know or care what I am watching. I am in the eye of the storm. Enjoying the peaceful calm of a life with no expectations. The wind begins to blow when you walk in the door, bringing my insecurities and your dishonesty with it.

I want out. I want to rescue her from this cesspool and give her a real life. But this is reality. You and I live in separate dimensions that barely coincide.

I'm sure you don't really see me. I open my mouth to speak and hear your voice. I close my eyes and dream your dreams. I realize that it no longer matters if I love you or you love me because I don't love myself anymore. I can't stay here. I'm sinking into the glittering abyss of your existence.

I would give anything to turn back, to find myself. But here I am, smiling and nodding as she begs for your attention and you turn her away. You never realize that she is your salvation. She is the reason I am here. I push and I push, hoping you'll see it; knowing you won't.

You martyr yourself again and again, turning a blind eye to the knife I'm holding inches from your back. Now, more than ever, I want out. I'm shackled to you by the bonds of this world and to leave that behind is to leave her, which is something I could never do. I know that she is my salvation, she is the reason I am here.

On September 11, our anniversary, the whole world fell apart; bringing about the realization that I wasn't the only one who knew we were doomed. I steal my courage and ask you to leave.

She and I are alone. There are no fairies, no roses and I think the cesspool is a little bit deeper; but at last, now I'm real.

Learn more about this author, Marissa M. Carter.
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