Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Let’s say that you love someone so much that
you don’t even want to think about
not having them in your life. There comes a day when you’re both arguing a lot,
but you still cannot think of life without him. You think to yourself, “If I
were a friend of mine and I asked me for advice, I would say it’s time to
leave.” Yet, you can’t bear the thought because the thought alone breaks your
heart and makes you almost cry. You wish instead that maybe you’d just die.
Mainly, though, really, you wish that it would all go back to how it was, that
this bad period would end.
One day, however, with your heart breaking,
you decide that you have to step out there and either lose him (which is
killing you even thinking that) or that he’ll wake up and see that there is a
problem and since he also cannot even fathom
life without you, he’ll help you work through this.
You know that this could break you but you’re
heart’s already breaking so, really, what more can you do to your already
breaking heart? It’s bruised and battered as it is, you’re merely trying a radical
surgical procedure.
You start off a conversation one night,
putting how you feel out there for him to see. This is my blood; drink this in
memory of me. Then you tell him that you might have to move out on your own in
order stop feeling 5,000 miles away when he’s sitting next to you on the couch.
He, of course (it’s only human), get’s pissed
off and tells you your being dramatic, not realizing that the wine he’s
drinking really is the life’s blood that pumps your heart.
It’s breaking.
So, with that conversation done and another
day of your heart cracking, you decided to go and hunt out apartments for you.
All the while you’re feeling ill when you think of what furniture is yours and
what you might have to buy for your new apartment because the way it’s looking,
he very well might call your bluff.
After a few days of this, you’ve actually
staunched the bleeding of the broken heart and kept the crack from getting any
bigger and, most importantly, stopped it from splitting your heart in two.
Also, you’ve found an apartment that you can afford that will accept your
flawed credit history.
So on your way home, with the application in
hand, you think of how you’re going to broach the subject and most importantly,
when. This allows your heart to crack infinitesimally more. You think you might
throw up.
That evening, when he gets home from work,
you show him the papers and you say, “I found an apartment. Now, either I’m
going to move or, if you want to take a look at the place and you prefer it to
this one, you can move there.”
He looks at you like you’ve grown a second
head.
You blink, take in a breath and say, “I told
you that I would not be just an object in your life. If we’re going to live
like we’re just friends, albeit not one of my best friends ‘cause living with
them was actually fun, then I want my own place. I can’t take this anymore.”
For once (ha!) he looks at you like you’re
not only serious, but like that's a gun in your hand and you’re actually mugging
him. Even better, he knows that you are
mugging him, except it’s yourself that you’re stealing away from him and he
just can’t believe it.
This is really happening, you say.
Something about that look he gives you gives
you a little strength. Something stops the bleeding crack in your heart. You
swallow and with a little less shake in your voice, and what feels like a
little more saliva in your mouth, you tell him, “I said, you can stay here or
you can take a look at this apartment (you shake the papers in your hand…brazen!)
and if you like it, you can move there.”
“You’re serious,” he says finally finding his
voice.
“I told you. You didn’t listen.”
You start speaking in shorter sentences,
becoming less expository because, well, you rather like the feeling of this.
There is only a little part of you now,
that’s whispering out of the crack that’s now permanently cemented in your
heart, “I didn’t want to do this; I had to.”
Then, just like that, your world is different and
you learn that that love is gone and
you can live without him, or will one day if you have to.
Labels: NaNoWriMo, Shards of Glass, Writing
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