Sunday, February 2, 2014

Better Safe and Sorry?

Is it better to be safe or to be happy?

Is realizing that the lines drawn around us are not as defined as we're raised to believe a form of enlightenment or of moral decline?

"You've been sad for ten years," he said. 
"You've always been sad, as long as I've known you. It's time to stop being sad."

As if there were an off button.

Sunday, January 26, 2014


The year has only just begun, yet overflows with potential and unavoidable transitions. Some of these transitions have already taken hold, and where they will release you is unclear, but you know that this time next year everything will be different. Hopefully, the difference is for the better.

He looks sad from one end of the long apartment.

You’re sad at the other end.

And the space between is heavy and large. It had been growing behind your backs for years now, growing stronger and more resilient while you both turned a blind eye, and now it’s too late to try and hack away at the thick branches that keep you so separated from one another. A giant tree of disconnect, with too many unspoken feelings that have grown too strong to tear down.

You’re angry with yourself, mostly, for breaking your own personal code almost exactly a year ago. Compromising the one thing you’ve always held with upmost importance—your personal space—was the beginning of the end.

You look at who you’ve become, so unlike who you’ve always been. Afraid of driving? Stressed out by the thought of running the simplest of errands? Who is this person, so crippled by agoraphobia? Pathetic and silly and grasping for control. Not someone you ever thought you’d be.

You watch the shoes of all colors and shapes collect on the floor around you. You watch the dust thicken on the nightstand. You watch the shoes begin to collect dust and you hate them. You hate that this place has become so cluttered and neglected, yet you can’t bring yourself to care enough for a home you feel isn’t really yours. All of the things you once loved to do, the things that defined you, are not a part of you anymore and you can’t figure out why that is.

You can’t blame him. How could he know?

For the first time in three years, you finally say the words you’ve been aching to say in three different households:  “I just need to be alone.”