Did you know?

Have you seen me walk outside your condo?
Have you seen me fight with him?
Did you hear that same dog bark at night, barking insistently without attention from its owners?
We called that same dog into the human society as a noise complaint at least once or twice.
You're welcome.
Have you seen me jogging, only when too stressed to make it in to a proper gym?
There were only a few occasions.
Once or twice I can remember for sure.
Once for the birth of his first child.
The second when about to loose a job
Did you see me clutch my stomach in sudden side cramps because I pushed myself too hard?
Suck in air, somehow scolding cold, into my lungs, like knives down my throat, while I held back tears, let go tears, brushed away tears,
Pulled on my jogging gear in frustration and ran on?
Did you see me walk a million times past your place to get a loaf of bread, some ramen, some pizza, something to make it through the night without stirring in my apartment to ruminate over how much we were falling apart, falling away, tossing and turning inside our own fitful waking young sleep of a marriage?
Did you know it was me when I walked into your office introduced myself and sat down and proceeded to not trust you for a very good reason?
Because theses were quiet, personal times. And if you knew, there's something wrong with not saying a word about it the first time you saw me.