A better version of ourselves

It was raining. A thunderous rain fell with constant thuds as if the house lay on the receiving end of a waterfall. It was raging outside but inside it was silent. An echoing stillness swept through the room, knocking us back to our respective corners. I wanted to talk but it seemed inappropriate so I cried instead. I was upset because I knew we could be better than this. I knew we were being our worst. I felt stupid and wiped my snotty face on my sleeve and I believe at this point you looked at me, but I might have been mistaken.

You let the silence congeal again. I almost gave up and fell asleep expecting to wake with a slight ache and puffy eyes, nothing more but then out of the stillness your voice, attempting to be soft, spoke with deep dark monotones.

“It would be better if you got out of the house more.

You should spend less time on your own”

I laughed because I tend to do that when I feel out of control. I was angry. The laughing stopped and my bones rattled. I was standing naked in a frozen pond with all but my own cold arms to stop the shivering. Completely alone. Even with someone I loved in the room, I was completely alone.

And I screamed at you but you pretended not to hear so I screamed louder, my teeth shook in my wide-open mouth.

I can’t remember what I said it was just noise, an aural manifestation of anger and confusion and hurt.

And you replied:

“You know, there is more to life than being with me”

The sheer arrogance and lack of emotion knocked me to the ground. But I stood up and continued to scream about how much I gave up for you and how much I sacrificed and how much time it took for me to….

Then I stopped because it hit me.

You don’t need me.

And if I disappeared, it wouldn’t even matter to you.

So that’s what I did, I disappeared. I left, hoping perhaps you would stop me but you didn’t. Even as I walked down your unlit street I hoped you’d chase after me but that kind of nonsense only happens in badly written films where cruelty only exists in villains and jealous ex wives. Raw human capability for undiluted evil is simply white-washed by bleached teeth and pretty music. Out here in the cold and lonely street where naïve expectations are never met and merely laughed at, a young woman is stranded in the middle of the night.

I didn’t have a clue where I was going. Rain-soaked I marched forward. The neighbourhood is dangerous. Out of some overly dramatic, teenage angst ridden desire I actually hoped someone would jump out and stab me. I’m sure you would be sorry then, that would show you!

I kept moving; no one came to stab me. I walked underneath loud billboards and raging cars and flickering neon lights luring me in for a dose of diseased chicken but I kept moving, through the crack-pot tunnel beneath the motorway. Junkies and homeless men were sleeping on their vomit stained big issue carpets. A toothless woman nursed her baby in a shoebox. I had had enough. I walked back.

Which brings me here, sitting on your steps, not knowing what to do and not going in until you open the door.