2008-08-21
Coming home.
I don't know if I should despise you.
I will not judge you, because I love you as you love me, but there is a strange hollow at the back of my chest that I think would have been weighed down by the disappointment, if I'd let it flow in. But I will not judge you.
~
Today I listened to the beginning of an ending of a story whose last chapter ended years ago, without a word, without notice, and carried on in its own mundane way till it would scratch itself to a halt on a Thursday night.
Love can be so frail sometimes, slipping away in the dead of the night, as though it had never begun in the first place. Affections tend to be so strange, tedious even, and by the time they end we leave with a little less of ourselves than before.
inquisite at 8:41 p.m.