It is in how you love somebody with your soul and yet cannot stand seeing or being with her in the present. And it's not about her particularly. She just happens to be human and at the moment, aloneness is what you crave so much.
You just want to lie alone in bed and drown in your thoughts. The sound of her voice, so lovely, is like sweet poison to this mood.
You do your best to smile and act normal, but normal to you is to just look blank as time passes by, and observe life emotionlessly.
And so you act normal, and her "Hello dear" just raises a little of your flattened lips in acknowledgment of her presence, and your blandness grates on her nerves.
She wants her bubbly and jovial lover. But even heaven has a heater, and hell, a freezer.
So you keep on acting "normal" and she is angry, sad, and disappointed, and you care but don't care at the same time.
You say you are sorry and really mean it but immediately roll away and face the wall, pick up your phone, plug in your earpiece, and set the volume to the loudest sound, tuning her out.
You care, but this time, tonight, you just don't care and it's fine even though it's not fine.
YOU ARE READING
Bedroom Whispers
Non-FictionThe bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were co...
