I am terrified of another house fire and yet we only just installed smoke detectors in our house today. We’ve lived here for three years.

I love my daughter to the end of the earth and yet I don’t want to be a mother.

I hate most of my friends and yet I continue to surround myself with them.

I despise playing stupid games and yet I continue to play them.

I want more for my life and yet I make no strides to become a better person.

I profess equality and yet I would never walk down the street in Five Points alone.

I feud with my husband and yet I’m asking him to do things I would never ask of myself.

I am presented with opportunity that I repeatedly sabotage and yet I ask that they keep coming.

I have no faith and yet I pray.

I invest my heart in things I know are wrong and yet I cannot stop.

I hate nights like tonight. I call them my “single mom nights”, the ones that happen when the husband has to work the late shift. Sometimes I think it’s great, having the night to myself. No one to constantly change the channel to whatever sporting event is on. No one to force me into making decisions about dinner. No one to feel obligated to pay attention to. Other nights, like this one, are not nearly as much fun.

I had a difficult evening with the kid. She refused to eat her dinner. She didn’t want to be anywhere beside my lap. She screamed for what felt like hours when I put her to sleep. It was one of those evenings that make me long for the old me. The kid-free, carefree version of myself. Nights like these I wish I had someone around.

Instead tonight I’ll think too much about things that shouldn’t be thought about. I’ll drink half a bottle of Jack without batting an eyelash. I’ll smoke more then I should and wake in the morning with aching lungs as a reminder. I’ll wish I was anywhere but here, in the midst of a lonely evening.