Building new facades: University and Old St. Augustine - Jacksonville, FL |
On my mind: How marriages don’t always end in happiness, and how we (oh. duh.) only hurt the ones we love.
How
the happiest of people can only sustain for so long. How, like the
needling tingles of a mild withdrawal, even the sensations that are
supposed to be pleasurable start to slow into annoyance. Get away from
me, don’t touch me, but don’t worry I’ll be back in the morning.
Until
one day it takes an extra day to get back to normal, to regain
perspective and remember that you love this person occupying your bed..
until the moment you pause and consider that the action of remembering
implies the action of forgetting. Implying the terrifying realization
that sometimes, however infrequently, you forget to be in love with this
person standing next to you.
And
how I, in all of my obsessive self analyzation, can catch these
damaging thoughts in their tracks, can reason my way out of this terror,
introducing the idea that my partner has melded into me and obviously
will bear the brunt of my self loathing from time to time. That there
are days where I hate myself, with toxic little hate droplets oozing out
onto whatever is closest to me, as if not only I am to blame for this unrest but you are too and it’s all our fault and I hate everything
but of course that feeling diminishes. Because it has to, right?
Because I can look that feeling in the face and tell it to shove off,
and then next thing I know you’re saying something cute and my funk
bubbles away and I know that I was just being silly so let’s go listen
to music and be silly together.
But right now it is the opposite scenario that hangs heavy on my shoulders.
The
one where he forgot that the ooze is impermanent and let it spill over
everything, watching with Hamlet’s eyes as the black poured a seamless
cover onto all of the things he used to love, hiding the light that used
to gleam back and forth. A thousand tiny mistakes lead to ruin and a
thousand tiny bubbles of seething resentment turn into the kind of slow
irrational hatred that becomes impossible to outrun.
Done. With a capital D.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thoughts?