Work

My job is very strenuous. It is very physical. It's non stop. It kicks my butt every day. I am sore. I have cuts. I have bruises. I sweat for eight hours plus. I have to stay with it, no matter what. It's the job you wanted me to have. The job you said you would be happy if I got. It will make me stronger, physically and mentally. I will have stability. I know if I stay with it, it will make me stronger financially. It is difficult though. The whole time I'm there, and the other sixteen hours of the day, all I think about is you. Seeing things you would love to have. Thinking of all the times we have gone to Hobby Lobby. So yes, I need this job, but it kills me thinking. It kills me not seeing nice messages from you on break and lunch, like you used to do. Hearing about your day, things you want to do, the way you missed me and loved me. Once again I'm in hell. But I guess that's where I have to be. I tried to be your everything. I tried so hard. It's hard to believe, how close we were again, and now to be even further apart than before. I really hope you see how much I tried for you. How much I love you and would give up everything to have that closeness back. 

I love you Malania. Always have, always will.