  Wow,  I'm here,  I think to myself.  So this is what it's like to write to NO ONE.  Finally I can write aimlessly and no one will complain about the message size limit in their email box.  Finally I don't have to worry about whether the boss is looking over my shoulder reading my emails,
 I can just spill my thoughts on this blank and virgin canvas that is my fresh new blog!  hmmm. drawing a blank.  Well,  I guess I can relieve some tension built up by tonight's visitor to my door -  [
insert drum roll.  The EX HUSBAND!  [ insert cacaphony of instrumental flourishes]  I pity the poor guy,  I mean,
 I WAS the only bright spot in his life,  until our marriage ended in divorce about 9 yrs ago,  and I'm not tooting my own horn -  The guy is most surely schizophrenic,  and me not being a REAL psychiatrist and therefore cannot prove it,  but when the guy comes over and insists that -
 I did not make this up -  and I'll quote him -  " The moon is made of cremation ashes of all the dead people who have died on the earth since the beginning of time"  -  I think someone was asleep at the quality-
control switch when his share of brain chemicals were inserted into his developing fetal brain.  He thinks the government has planted bugs everywhere,  even on my front porch in my harmless little subdivision.  He has never had a fair shake in life,  rotten parents,  no education,
 you know the type.  Why did I marry him?  I was 14 when I met him,  and he was my dream guy!  In other words,  he was EVERYTHING mom and dad warned me about!
 He was the guy from the wrong side of the tracks,  he was poor [ read:  he NEEDED me]  he was rebellious,  but mostly,
 he was just REALLY cute and had a hot rod reincarnated from what used to be a Chevelle,  so why WOULDN'T a know- it- all teenager like myself want a catch like that?  * sigh*
 20 years and 3 kids later,  I now pity him from the bottom of my heart.  I pity his mental illness which,  even with all my endearing ridicule,  is causing him to suffer paranoia and strange visions of " winds coming together like a wall,
 and then a bird pops out"  ( Yep,  that was another one of his umm. stories)  I pity that he has no education,
 no job ( disabled in work accident)  no real home of his own ( lives with his asshole brother)  no friends,  no sense of reality,
 no real family,  no hope.  He has no hope.  I think THAT is what it all boils down to,  and THAT is why I pity him the most.  What is left when you have lost all hope?
 Yet,  I will sit and listen to his incredulous yarns,  because I think I might be the only person he talks to.  We haven't ever really gotten along well since those golden days of new,  first love.  That faded quickly.
 I think it was inevitable that we would not last,  but a know- it- all teenager like I was refused to see the inevitable.  What has lasted is my tolerance and understanding of him,  and I don't think anyone else could do it.
 If I even dared suggest he seek medical/ psychiatric help,  he wouldn't listen.  Not only would he NOT listen,  he would never speak to me again.  It is on tentative terms that I even speak with him,
 I'm always wondering when he'll start his tirades As I watched him walk back to his car tonight,  I worried about him,  I pitied him,  and then I went in the house and cried for him,  because he is such a sad soul.  He is a sad soul with no peace in his tortured mind,
 and no hope left.  I think he STILL needs me,  20 years later,  even if he would vehemently deny that.  For our kids' sake,  I pray that his broken mind will find some kind of peace.
 Until then,  he's got me to listen to him!
