Friday, January 30, 2015

Turmoil



“I want to talk to you! I’m sorry I interrupted!”
Hand to the doorknob and twist without a budge.
Sigh and look at the soft light of the street lamps peer through the gaps in the living room blinds.
The knob twists under my fingers and the door opens suddenly, his figure emerging in a rush, arm sliding easily around my neck
Pushing me into the room, turn, let me down, then abruptly rough drop to the floor
Arms pushed above my head
His face is so close that I can see his facial hair, up to the glowing white skin, to his dark brows and brown hair falling over his eyes
“You stupid fucker!”
“Don’t call me names!” I try to firm my resolve, left leg shaking.
“Shut up you stupid fucking cunt!”
It was hard to hear what he said then because I was oddly aware of the way the carpet felt rough on my lower back where my shirt was pushed up
And the mist of saliva as more words ripped out.
My lips and eyes scrunched up as two fat tears ran down the sides of my face and I began to cry.
“Why are you crying!? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”
“No…It hurt my neck a little bit…I was just scared…”
More tears.
“You are so mentally weak!”
Continues on saying something that I vaguely know hurts.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks again.
His breath is warm; I don’t know why this surprises me.
Stern features looking down at my tear stained ones demand a technical answer.
Quiet inhale, face turning to stone.
“No.”
“What?”
“No. I’m not hurt.”
The hot sticky feeling and the throbbing in my nose makes me think that somewhere in all this my nose ring bumped into the bottom of my nose.

There was a end to the argument, which was forgotten the next day. 
Fingers that kept smudging black mascara tears as I recalled the things he said, that I hovered and was a burden, making him miserable, a coward, that I tried to change him and thought I was better than I was...
"Something wrong?" he asks when I get home.
Quick smile, "No, I'm just tired. Long day of school." 
Things smooth again, 
Thoughts bouncing in my head, "I'm so ashamed of how I've behaved..."
"I shouldn't have been such a child..."
"He gets it more than I do..."

I'm not hurt, but it still makes me alternate between tears and chastising myself.
Self-doubt.
Questions.
But I love him...
How?
Shame.

And then

I can't believe this happened to me....

7 comments:

  1. The circle of love...doubt and shame and joy and euphoria. SO many mixed emotions- each of which you capture here...

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  2. This was quite unsettling to read....I really don't like the way he fucks with you. You're not weak at all, you're strong and kind. Why can't he see that? I know I'm missing so many pieces of this puzzle, I shouldn't even comment. I just want you to be at peace, in life and in your relationships.

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  3. Oh honey...You are so incredibly strong. I hope you see this one day.
    <3 lee

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  4. What does it take to call someone weak, more than weakness? You are a pretty person.

    /Avy

    http://mymotherfuckedmickjagger.blogspot.com

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  5. Sorry to go back in time but I really have to tell you after I passed through an ED I went through a bad romance stage. I was often so raw and hurty but the relationship was like a lifeline. It's a bitter exquisite private pain. I wish you well. I don't like this guy you have but I know what love is like and sometimes the drama just keeps your mind off other pain, maybe its subconscious. This post makes me feel sad (I feel for all sensitive souls!) but I reckon you'll be OK in the end.

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    Replies
    1. Don't apologize! I appreciate you taking the time to read about my trivial rantings. :) it really is a sort of private pain. I always want to talk about it, let it out, but I can't be sure it doesn't matter to anyone like it does to me and talking about it doesn't do much either. You just have to learn to get rid of it or get rid of it.

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