(no subject)
How did it come to this?
Freedom should be kisses from a lover, and holding hands in the woods, and uncovering birthday-eyes to the sight of a homemade cake and all the ice cream you can eat. Freedom should be flying on the praise of your partner, bathing in candlelit affection, falling asleep to a favorite movie with your head in their lap. The sensation that you can do anything and be anyone. Be anyone with someone. Be anyone with someone always at your back.
I felt free when he told me we couldn't do this anymore. And I know how much it's going to hurt him even to voice that sensation, but he told me he didn't need pretty... he only needed the truth. The truth is that I finally felt like I could breathe again, breathe free. And how, how did I let it come to that? I feel so cruel for not realizing it. So inhumane. What have I done to him? How could I do that to someone? Why didn't I know? I did know... I knew that I was giving things up to be with him. We both did. I knew that we were so different, that we had to compromise. I knew there were nights when one or both of us was left aching for something, trying to satisfy a need we could never pin point. But how did it go so far? How many of the shackles were self-imposed? How much did I do to myself, and without ever realizing it? Without ever realizing what I was doing to him? I'd stalk up and down and go over in my head, and with him, again and again, perusing problems and pinpointing this or that, finding scapegoats I guess. Maybe if we give it more time. Maybe it was just because I was in a mood. Maybe I've just changed since the relationship started. Maybe. Possibly. Not.
I'm numb, and yet I'm agonized, agonized for him. Because I do love him, I do, I have, I will. But this? He said it was done and I felt free. The first thing I did was write, unstifled, because I didn't feel guilty any more that I wasn't writing about him. And when I thought about where to go, and knew that I wanted to go to Ireland, I didn't feel guilty because it wasn't LA. And when I went to talk to someone, to find consolation in anyone, I didn't feel guilty because it wasn't him. When my mind started to wander, I didn't have to curtail where it went, I didn't mentally slap my wrist and place myself back on the right path. I let myself explore, and think, and be... a whole afternoon of it. I felt sad and depressed, and that was okay, because I didn't feel guilty about burdening him with it. I felt happy and elated, and that was okay, because I didn't feel guilty about not making him just as happy. And even though everything, all of it, was muted by this numbness and disbelief, it still felt like freedom. Freedom I never realized I was missing. Ever since Aaralyn was born I kept on trying to put myself into this perfect little box. I wanted to be the loving father, the cherished husband, the breadwinner, the supporter; I wanted to be everything. I wanted us to have one house, one family, one entity created from an idealistic love. I stopped being who I was because I wanted to be perfect. I hedged myself in with morals I'd never had before, I compromised things inside of me, desires and wants and wishes and attitudes and quirks. And I didn't even realize I was doing it; I was so completely blinded by this urge to have the perfect family, this cookie cutter life. Like maybe if I kept on carving parts of myself away, I'd wind up with a Peruzzi diamond.
But you can't make a Peruzzi diamond out of something that was never a diamond to begin with. And now I've hurt someone I love so badly I can't even stand to think about it. What have I done? How could I have done this to him? I always prided myself in being introspective, in knowing who I was and what I wanted. And now I realize this whole time I was blind, and I've got the heaviest price of all to pay for it.
Freedom should be kisses from a lover, and holding hands in the woods, and uncovering birthday-eyes to the sight of a homemade cake and all the ice cream you can eat. Freedom should be flying on the praise of your partner, bathing in candlelit affection, falling asleep to a favorite movie with your head in their lap. The sensation that you can do anything and be anyone. Be anyone with someone. Be anyone with someone always at your back.
I felt free when he told me we couldn't do this anymore. And I know how much it's going to hurt him even to voice that sensation, but he told me he didn't need pretty... he only needed the truth. The truth is that I finally felt like I could breathe again, breathe free. And how, how did I let it come to that? I feel so cruel for not realizing it. So inhumane. What have I done to him? How could I do that to someone? Why didn't I know? I did know... I knew that I was giving things up to be with him. We both did. I knew that we were so different, that we had to compromise. I knew there were nights when one or both of us was left aching for something, trying to satisfy a need we could never pin point. But how did it go so far? How many of the shackles were self-imposed? How much did I do to myself, and without ever realizing it? Without ever realizing what I was doing to him? I'd stalk up and down and go over in my head, and with him, again and again, perusing problems and pinpointing this or that, finding scapegoats I guess. Maybe if we give it more time. Maybe it was just because I was in a mood. Maybe I've just changed since the relationship started. Maybe. Possibly. Not.
I'm numb, and yet I'm agonized, agonized for him. Because I do love him, I do, I have, I will. But this? He said it was done and I felt free. The first thing I did was write, unstifled, because I didn't feel guilty any more that I wasn't writing about him. And when I thought about where to go, and knew that I wanted to go to Ireland, I didn't feel guilty because it wasn't LA. And when I went to talk to someone, to find consolation in anyone, I didn't feel guilty because it wasn't him. When my mind started to wander, I didn't have to curtail where it went, I didn't mentally slap my wrist and place myself back on the right path. I let myself explore, and think, and be... a whole afternoon of it. I felt sad and depressed, and that was okay, because I didn't feel guilty about burdening him with it. I felt happy and elated, and that was okay, because I didn't feel guilty about not making him just as happy. And even though everything, all of it, was muted by this numbness and disbelief, it still felt like freedom. Freedom I never realized I was missing. Ever since Aaralyn was born I kept on trying to put myself into this perfect little box. I wanted to be the loving father, the cherished husband, the breadwinner, the supporter; I wanted to be everything. I wanted us to have one house, one family, one entity created from an idealistic love. I stopped being who I was because I wanted to be perfect. I hedged myself in with morals I'd never had before, I compromised things inside of me, desires and wants and wishes and attitudes and quirks. And I didn't even realize I was doing it; I was so completely blinded by this urge to have the perfect family, this cookie cutter life. Like maybe if I kept on carving parts of myself away, I'd wind up with a Peruzzi diamond.
But you can't make a Peruzzi diamond out of something that was never a diamond to begin with. And now I've hurt someone I love so badly I can't even stand to think about it. What have I done? How could I have done this to him? I always prided myself in being introspective, in knowing who I was and what I wanted. And now I realize this whole time I was blind, and I've got the heaviest price of all to pay for it.