You'd think that over time...

You'd think that over time, we'd both come to the conclusion that something needs to be said. But i'm sure neither of us ever will. He out of cowardice, perhaps, or lack of caring altogether--i'm not sure which is worse. And i out of sheer stubbornness and, to be honest, complete anger. It's not what He stopped doing that angers me. i won't hold onto that, for my sake and his. it's what He's still doing. it's the little hints He throws my way, for no purpose other than notification: He still has his Wall built against me.

You'd think that over time, i'd be used to this feeling--this unshakable feeling of discontentment, absolute loneliness, and foolishness. i don't dwell on it, understand, but it lives with me. All of it is integrated into who i am. And i don't want anyone to feel pity for me, honestly i'm tired of it. i get enough. Take it from someone who knows: it doesn't help. What i want is answers, i want to understand why. What did i do to Him? ... Who'd have thought that one man could instill this brand of anger. And i do blame him for that much..i'd pass it off with 'ah, he doesn't mean to do these things, it's just what He's become. it's just what's He's built from his pathetic choices.' But i can't anymore, i used to, but not now. i challenge Him to accountability.

You'd think that over time, i would recognize when all hope is gone and accept it for what it is. And, in fact, i do. He taught me it's necessary to let go of nearly everything in order to find any happiness at all. Now, by no means am i suggesting this is true for everyone. i'm suggesting it's true for me...it's how i know to live. Nonetheless, for all the things i give up in this part of my Life, i can't seem to be rid of this one. Somehow, nothing can truly replace Him. What i do hold onto is the memory of what He was. Because we did have moments--i do have some rememberance of visiting the park, his trying to help with my hair, or coming to my rescue when i'd fallen. i remember, on occassion, what it felt like when he held me. That part of him is dead--quite literally dead. Clearly He's become someone else--someone i can't reach.

You'd think that over time, i'd lose some of my facsination with the psychology behind the man. Some days i think i'd like to spend one afternoon sitting on his couch, inspecting every crevice of his life, trying to understand. But just as fast as this thought formulates in my dusty mind, i remember the actual man, and how such a visit would end. i'd come out understanding him less than when i went in, and thirsting even more for even vague answers to my questions.

And you'd think that over time, i'd realize how long it's been ... how long we've both been fighting this battle against the mere thought of the other. But this is clearly what He wants--and i know there's a part of Him i've loved. And after twelve years, i still love the memory He left behind. And from that piece of rememberance, i'll give him what He wants without a fight, even if something should be said between us. Because when you break it down, He too is just a human living in this world, trying to survive. As such, He deserves happiness as much as anyone else.

...

i just reminded myself, as i reached for the 'publish post' button, that someone else might actually read this. i've no fear of Him ever reading it...i doubt He even read birthday cards, when i sent one. But you might be a bit confused--i apologize, but alas! Who's blog is this anyway? Perhaps one day You and i will trade stories over a random venture.

why can't i remember?