Today, especially, seemed like a good day.*
So. Where were we? Oh right. Boy meets girl. There is an audible click from day one. They fall in love. The love has all the right bits. And there is a lot of laughing. But when it comes down to the wire, the bit where ‘the future’ looms large, a sharp snaggy thing sticks out. A place where the middle ground of compromise starts looking more like a wasteland. It’s no one’s fault. It just is. She wants one thing. He wants another. There is no upper hand. No moral high ground. No wrong or right. Just difference. Three potential paths. And one fucking huge decision.
The problem with this is that there’s no one to blame. There’s no rage to get you through the pain. You can’t get indignant and convince yourself you’re better off. Without him. And so you just live in a kind of dark misery. A lonely gray place that feels dull and raw and cold. And you listen to people spout platitudes and admonishments and reasons why it’s the best thing ever. And you swear you’ll never spout platitudes again. But you know people are trying to be kind. That the pain makes them uncomfortable.
But platitudes are nothing over the voice. That fucking sly voice that starts to whisper in the black, black hours. The one sneers that you’re a fool. That you’re a bitch. That what you want is unreasonable. Love. Family. Who will want you? No one. No one! You’ll never be enough. Never. Not you.
And so you fall asleep with your hands over your ears, and tears on your cheeks, whispering soothing things to your wounded heart. Hoping, hoping you haven’t made the biggest mistake of your life.
*I’m hoping, in the spirit of fools everywhere, that you’ll ignore the pain, and just pretent this isn’t really real. Just laugh and clap at the jangling bells and painted on smile. Just for today. With the most humble and grateful thanks, I just don’t think I can take any more platitudes.