“I cannot do this anymore”
My friends comment how composed I am, how I don’t show emotion. I provide updates, my understanding of his actions, I show my frustration and, my clinging heart is exposed. But what they don’t see, what they don’t expect, is the moments here. At home. The minutes that have turned into hours that collectively may now add up to a day. The moments where I am paralyzed as the energies of my body are consumed by breaking my heart.
I hold my head in my hands, close my eyes, and search for an answer on what to feel. Trapped between words of love and actions that contradict, I straddle allowing the anger to consume me and move on, or the alternative, letting go with love. In one scenario, I fuck, I date, I write a story that has no second act. In the other, I embrace my individuality, cherish my friends, and remain emotionally and physically unavailable. Drawn to him. Ultimately. Remaining open to a future us.
I look at my phone. I acknowledge the game at play and my lack of understanding his motives as of yet. However, as each minute passes, as my eyes search around my room as if the answers could be found here, I embrace the anger for it is the only escape.