Why do I hang on to relationships long after it's clear, really clear, that I should let them go? Why is there this clinging, this refusal to admit it's over?
I know what I'm talking about, although I understand it not at all. It's like a primordial creature emerging, pimitive and powerful, from the sea within me.
An ugly truth has awakened it and it rises up. It sweeps aside thoughts of abandonment, of loss, of loneliness. It crushes images of betrayal. I cower before it, terrified and grateful.
This creature allows no ugly truths, even as I collect the bits and pieces and assemble the evidence. He doesn't love me anymore, and what he brings to me now isn't love. It's duty, its pity, it's resentment,it even tastes of hatred, but nothing about it bears the sweet scent of love. It's over, done, finished. I scramble to pick up the pieces to make sense of them, to understand WHY, but, of course that is only a distraction, like doing a crossword puzzle at a funeral.
The creature is never distracted. It knows only that the truth is unbearable, and it will hear no more of it.Everything will be alright. Be patient. Be understanding. He's just working some things through. He's busy. I swallow each thought like a little pink pill and wait for the panic to subside. icantlosehimicantlosehimicantloseehimicantlosehimilovehimsomuchohsweetlordilove
himsomuchilovehimsomuch.
I wait for the phone, the text, his voice. The creature and me, we wait, but there is only silence, black silence, and an occasional little sound in the distance, like a sob caught in the back of someone's throat.
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