Spectres

We walk around the apartment like injured invalids. The tense air of impending pain clings to us and weighs us down, as if any moment a noise or a step will send the agony coursing through our limbs. We walk with the wincing hunch, head down and shifty eyes, with the deliberate step of one who lives with chronic pain. When our eyes do meet, we respond with a strained tug of the mouth or ducking of the head. We are not bodily injured, but our hearts have taken a blow. Neither of us meant for things to end this way, indeed, we thought we had found what we'd been looking for. Perhaps if we walk carefully, silently, shouldering our sadness and disappointment, the inevitable pain during separation with not burn so bitterly.

So I prepare to live from boxes and say goodbye to my kittens. At least I will have the freedom to find out why I am incapable of being in a relationship where I am called names. Perhaps a true adult would be more patient and compassionate when their mate crosses the line with hateful words, but I don't know if I want to have the patience. Would I find myself five years down the road broken and tearful because I decided to stay and give it a try? I am not willing to take that chance. Selfish and self-centered? Yes.