Knots
2
The subway brings back to droning hell of fatigue. I’m over-tired, thinking to the point of exhaustion. I ask myself if there’s something wrong with me. If there’s a reason why I keep doing this to myself.
This isn’t what love is. No. This isn’t what conventional love is.
I lay my head on his shoulder, feeling the weight of his above mine. I don’t think it’s that we feel the need to abuse each other, maybe it’s just that we understand each other. This feels like home. We break each other down in order to rebuild each other to even greater heights. But there’s a link missing, something that is likely that neither of us will ever find- the link that truly keeps us from being whole.
We make small talk- what the day’s plans look like; how we enjoyed each other’s company; how we’ll see each the soon. The sex is never mentioned, it is like a silent code.
It wasn’t always this way. We were friends once, and in a way I guess you could say we still are. But we had to go and make things complicated; we had to go and play house and pretend we were a happy little couple. People shouldn’t date when they like each other too much. Relationships are like knots, and sometimes when they’re over it’s just too difficult to pull apart. This is what the end result looks like.
You start out saying that everything is fine, that it’s just the one time, and it’s not going to mean anything. But then you say something old and familiar; something that feels comfortable because it creates the illusion that you could be close to someone. The effect snowballs and before you know it, you start to believe that you are close to someone, and it’s like a disease.
We met in the most unlikely of circumstances. He was dating a friend of mine at the time. We never did talk much back then, I barely knew him. I was seeing a guy at the time who made a relationship feel like a cage. When I threatened to leave him, he threatened to kill himself, or sometimes he would threaten to kill me. He would call at every hour of the day, asking where I was and who with, and if for some reason he expected I were lying, I would have the bruises to show it. If it was my company that he wanted at the time, then he got it when I got home whether it was something I wanted or not. I remember screaming, expecting somebody to come help me, I remember knowing that this was wrong. I thought that love could change him, and maybe make him a better man. Now I don’t even know if I believe in love. One day I packed my stuff and left a note behind. I got on a bus and left town, terrified that he would come after me.
He gets off the subway, taking one last glance back, and waving with a silly half-smile. And just like that, the cycle starts up again. I sigh, knowing all too well what comes next. We get along for a few weeks; Genuinely enjoy each other’s company until something happens, like the sex never being mentioned. And like the feelings never being mentioned, along with the baggage that comes with it. And then it becomes overwhelming. I hate to admit it, but it’s usually me to starts up the next part of the vicious cycle. The fighting. The screaming. The crying.
Then there’s the sex- It might not always be good, but it's always interesting.
And it always ties us back to square one.
This isn’t what love is. No. This isn’t what conventional love is.
I lay my head on his shoulder, feeling the weight of his above mine. I don’t think it’s that we feel the need to abuse each other, maybe it’s just that we understand each other. This feels like home. We break each other down in order to rebuild each other to even greater heights. But there’s a link missing, something that is likely that neither of us will ever find- the link that truly keeps us from being whole.
We make small talk- what the day’s plans look like; how we enjoyed each other’s company; how we’ll see each the soon. The sex is never mentioned, it is like a silent code.
It wasn’t always this way. We were friends once, and in a way I guess you could say we still are. But we had to go and make things complicated; we had to go and play house and pretend we were a happy little couple. People shouldn’t date when they like each other too much. Relationships are like knots, and sometimes when they’re over it’s just too difficult to pull apart. This is what the end result looks like.
You start out saying that everything is fine, that it’s just the one time, and it’s not going to mean anything. But then you say something old and familiar; something that feels comfortable because it creates the illusion that you could be close to someone. The effect snowballs and before you know it, you start to believe that you are close to someone, and it’s like a disease.
We met in the most unlikely of circumstances. He was dating a friend of mine at the time. We never did talk much back then, I barely knew him. I was seeing a guy at the time who made a relationship feel like a cage. When I threatened to leave him, he threatened to kill himself, or sometimes he would threaten to kill me. He would call at every hour of the day, asking where I was and who with, and if for some reason he expected I were lying, I would have the bruises to show it. If it was my company that he wanted at the time, then he got it when I got home whether it was something I wanted or not. I remember screaming, expecting somebody to come help me, I remember knowing that this was wrong. I thought that love could change him, and maybe make him a better man. Now I don’t even know if I believe in love. One day I packed my stuff and left a note behind. I got on a bus and left town, terrified that he would come after me.
He gets off the subway, taking one last glance back, and waving with a silly half-smile. And just like that, the cycle starts up again. I sigh, knowing all too well what comes next. We get along for a few weeks; Genuinely enjoy each other’s company until something happens, like the sex never being mentioned. And like the feelings never being mentioned, along with the baggage that comes with it. And then it becomes overwhelming. I hate to admit it, but it’s usually me to starts up the next part of the vicious cycle. The fighting. The screaming. The crying.
Then there’s the sex- It might not always be good, but it's always interesting.
And it always ties us back to square one.