Defeated

The walls are white and so is the ceiling. I can guess the sunshine and the blue sky through the grey shades. I can guess a glorious summer day outside, even if the curtains are drawn and my eyes are closed and full of tears.

I am trying hard to send my mind to happy places and not to listen to him. He is yelling. He is hurt. I am hurt. We are both hurt. I hurt him with one word. He hurt me with many of his actions in time. He tried to compensate every now and then. Everytime I was about to forgive him, he would strike again.

Now he is good and then he is bad and later on he is good again. I am more and more confused because I realise that with every day that is going by, I know him less and less. He doesn’t let me enter his mind so I keep mine locked too. The distance between us is increasing while we are actually getting closer.

His words are reaching my ears. I try not to let them reach my mind. He wants to put me down and he wants to put all the guilt on my shoulders. I am willing to do anything: to declare myself defeated, or guilty, even to ask for forgiveness if that would make him let me go. Because he doesn’t want to let me go. He wants me to bring arguments for the word I threw to his face. He won’t take it, otherwise. I don’t want to bring arguments. I just want him to accept that like he can do whatever he wants to me, without explaining me why he is doing it, I can say whatever I feel under the same conditions. Apparently that is not the way it works.

So now I am laying on my back on his bed. The ceiling is spinning. The white walls are suffocating me. The summer day seems to be in another dimension, so far away from this room full of our anger. I don’t dare to look at him and I try hard not to listen to what he is telling me: “You think you know it all, but you know nothing. You think you have it all and that you are above everybody. When you talk, people think you are invincible. This is not what I see when I look at you right now.”

I don’t respond back. Because I don’t know what to say, because I am not above anyone, because I am not invincible. Why would I respond to that? Why does he think I would try to prove him wrong? How come he thinks I consider myself a super woman when I struggle with life every single day and I lose most of the battles? Because I do this quietly and I don’t surrender? Because I don’t complain? Because I don’t ask for help? Because I don’t involve all the people I know in this great personal war I have with life?

He doesn’t even know about my war. He never tried to look beyond the smile on my face or beyond the jokes coming out from my mouth. But he dares to judge me. He dares to tell me what I am and what I am not. He dares to keep me prisoner in this room so that I would listen. And maybe feel hurt. Again. Well…I am deeply hurt. And I am defeated. For real. I am defeated by the hate I feel in his voice. By his lack of understanding. By his failing in trying to sense with me. By his constant need to hurt my feelings. By his great attempts to try to make it up to me so that he would hurt me even more after.

I am defeated. You win. I am weak. You are strong. I am whatever you want. You are great. Let me fight my battles in silence. Let me deal with my hardtimes my own way. You can call me whatever you want. I will not argue. I will not try to prove you wrong. Because you might be right. Or not. But I don't know. Because there are so many things I don't know. Because I am not invincible. I am just defeated. I don't want to be right. I don't want to have the last word. You can have all that. Just let me go.