Aug 27, 2009 08:05
After having only about two hours of sleep, I woke to the noise of my dog’s barking still affected by what you said last night. (Or rather, earlier this morning.) I felt a slight ache in my heart - an ache that managed to maneuver itself into my arms, my legs, my fingers, my toes, and even my face. I can’t open my mouth to speak despite really wanting to greet my family members a nice ‘good morning’. I can’t stretch out my hands to give my dog his morning hug. The only thing I can do, the only thing I’ve strength enough for, is to lie on the bed all day even if it’s frustrating me that I can’t fall asleep again - not after the violent barks from my beloved dog.
It’s really not easy to breathe when you’re upset. Something of immense weight seems to have found rest on your heart, your lungs, and even your soul. Yet it is also this weight that keeps me from crumbling into pieces, keeps me from breaking down and crying when you’re not around. Perhaps it’s replaced you. Instead of your physical being next to me, all I’m left with is the pain you’ve left me with. I want to smoke a cigarette and forget about your brutality but strangely, smoking makes no sense to me. It makes no sense at all… at least for today, at least for now.
My mother yells, “your breakfast is in the kitchen go and get it before I throw it away”. I don’t blame her for being insensitive although I have all the reason to. I simply walk to the kitchen, sit down, stare at the food which really just looks like puke, and eat spoonful by spoonful even though I’ve got no appetite at all. Soon, my brother came in. He’s hungry - he ate really quickly with a type of strange joy printed all over his sleepy face. My mother tells me that she needs my help today - she needs me to stay at home and wait for the repairman to come because she has somewhere to go to. I find it fascinating that people make use of me only on the days I’ve hardly got any strength to continue breathing. Perhaps everyone’s helping me increase my threshold for pain. Too tired to argue, I complied and said I would cancel prior appointments and stay home today.
Once she’s left, and my sleepy and satisfied brother gone back to sleep, I took my now not-so-lovely cigarette and lit it. Smoking doesn’t feel right today - it doesn’t feel right when you’ve left. Nothing feels right now that you’re gone. I don’t know why or how I somehow lost myself when it comes to you and you seem to have complete control over my heart and mind. Maybe I exaggerate; maybe you do not have that kind of control over me. Nonetheless, it’s evident that I’ve let my guard down and that shouldn’t have been allowed to happen. Of all people, you’re not supposed to be the one worthy enough to break my heart because you’re ugly, stupid and incredibly conceited. Yet, for another unknown reason, I’m drawn to your ugly, your stupid, your conceit.
I know I can’t live my life this way. No one can, and no one should. I need to figure out my next step - my next 500 steps that are vital for me to get away from you. I need to run away so that you will no longer have control over me. I need to leave so that you can’t hurt me the way you did just a few hours ago. I need to let the wounds heal, examine the scars, and come to some kind of epiphany that you’re just not it. I need to lie down, and so I did.
Arms limp, legs bent, eyes empty, still breathing.