Thirty Minutes

I have one chance -- thirty minutes -- to end this relationship well. I have just one, thirty-minute opportunity for closure. It may come as early as this Sunday, but I hope not. I don't think I'm ready.

After almost two and a half years of silence, these are my questions:

Do you have any idea what you've done to me? What kind of person are you that you destroy every woman in your life? You wives, your mother, your daughters, and me? I want you to know what you've done to me.

Why! Why couldn't you trust me? Why couldn't you tell me the truth, ever? Why wouldn't you accept my help?

How are you going to survive, now that all hope has been taken away from you? Will you survive?

You were a beautiful person. Why did you have to self-destruct? Why were you so determined to destroy yourself? What did you hate so much about yourself that you chose this slow form of suicide?

What more do you want from me?

Can you forgive me for abandoning you now?