"Just try with me."
I hear it every day.
"You don't try at all."
Every day it's the same thing. Her voice, fraught with exasperation, pleading with me. I say something hurtful, something I know I should not be saying. She falls silent. I've done it again.
It's not that I don't want to try, or that I don't care enough. In that moment, I feel nothing. I wait, I search myself for even a vestige of sympathy, or any emotion at all. Anything that would motivate me to try. Nothing. In that moment, nothing matters to me. Why is that?
"Please," her voice is heavy with heartbreak. She takes my hand. I appreciate her warm touch, but I don't move. "Why should I?" I ask myself. I don't want her to take her hand away. I remain still.
We sit for half an hour at least, her desperate attempts at getting me to care, to just try, futile. I know I should, but I just can't. I want to. But I can't. Why is it so hard? Why don't I feel anything?
In the end I take her into my arms, seemingly reluctantly. "Okay, I'll try. I'm sorry."
I still don't feel anything. I just do it because I know I should, and I'm tired of not feeling anything.
It gets easier from there. Holding her feels like it was all I was meant to do, and all the tension melts away. "I'm sorry," I whisper into her ear. "I love you." I did it again. I hurt her again. Why do I have to keep doing that? I keep making promises to her and to myself, I promised that I would try. But I can never do it, and I don't know why.
I wipe her tears away. She's broken again, I can tell. I hug her, and she squeezes me back with as much energy as a worn, weary, broken soul can manage. Enough to let me know she forgives me, that she will always try, but not enough to show me that she's okay.
I crack a weak joke and she laughs. Relief floods my body. I know we're going to be okay. It was almost effortless to fix us, so why couldn't I have done it just now? This question always goes unanswered.
Everything is so much easier when we're happy. Why can't it be like this all the time?
Help is what I need, and I think I've taken my first steps in that direction, with her by my side. I don't want to lose her.
"You don't try at all."
Every day it's the same thing. Her voice, fraught with exasperation, pleading with me. I say something hurtful, something I know I should not be saying. She falls silent. I've done it again.
It's not that I don't want to try, or that I don't care enough. In that moment, I feel nothing. I wait, I search myself for even a vestige of sympathy, or any emotion at all. Anything that would motivate me to try. Nothing. In that moment, nothing matters to me. Why is that?
"Please," her voice is heavy with heartbreak. She takes my hand. I appreciate her warm touch, but I don't move. "Why should I?" I ask myself. I don't want her to take her hand away. I remain still.
We sit for half an hour at least, her desperate attempts at getting me to care, to just try, futile. I know I should, but I just can't. I want to. But I can't. Why is it so hard? Why don't I feel anything?
In the end I take her into my arms, seemingly reluctantly. "Okay, I'll try. I'm sorry."
I still don't feel anything. I just do it because I know I should, and I'm tired of not feeling anything.
It gets easier from there. Holding her feels like it was all I was meant to do, and all the tension melts away. "I'm sorry," I whisper into her ear. "I love you." I did it again. I hurt her again. Why do I have to keep doing that? I keep making promises to her and to myself, I promised that I would try. But I can never do it, and I don't know why.
I wipe her tears away. She's broken again, I can tell. I hug her, and she squeezes me back with as much energy as a worn, weary, broken soul can manage. Enough to let me know she forgives me, that she will always try, but not enough to show me that she's okay.
I crack a weak joke and she laughs. Relief floods my body. I know we're going to be okay. It was almost effortless to fix us, so why couldn't I have done it just now? This question always goes unanswered.
Everything is so much easier when we're happy. Why can't it be like this all the time?
Help is what I need, and I think I've taken my first steps in that direction, with her by my side. I don't want to lose her.