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fissure
2006-01-15 @ 8:21 p.m.
this feels like the hardest thing i've ever had to do, breaking up at a miniscule pace. so slow that fissures begin to heal, bonds reform. and with each break, each new hairline fracture, something builds or separates that feels more like a wide chasm. and maybe this is why people have huge nasty blow out break ups where everyone walks away hating everyone else. it's easier, it seems, the raging angry heartbreak.
the smaller quieter fissures are the paper cut of heartbreak. minute, but searing.
and then again, it's not that this is minute. this is like a family that i've built, and it's splitting, albeit at a slow, geological pace.
i get impatient, and would often rather have it all crash and burn. finito.
but i'm trying. trying for something akin to patience.
it's easier to write with a little wine in me. easier to get things out in conjunction with the strange warmth in my cheeks of pinot grigio on a cold night.
it's sunday night, and people are coming over later, but much later, so i've got hours to reflect.
the thing i freak out about is that people will hate me. that i'll be the evil bitch or something. and i'm not. and maybe people do. but i don't think i am and i don't even know why i would fucking care. but i do. sometimes.
and i don't know whether wild fantasies are just that, or escapsim. or perhaps a combination of both. i should be focusing on this growing fissure, right, not concocting wild venetian dreams.
and this life here. this life i've wanted to cultivate just hasn't happened. but somehow, i occasionally recover this glimmer that it might. what i had in dc, or something like it. a confidence. roots. a sense that i belong.
maybe there are always counter fissures, or concurrent fissures. things that, once one break begins to happen, or forced out in the open, under the light of day.
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