Friday, August 05, 2005
Last night, I nearly threw in the towel. I had never come so close to giving up, but standing on the brink, I was suddenly scared. It’s like psyching yourself up to bungee jump and you’ve gone through the theoretical procedures a million times. But when you finally stand on that platform, six gazillion feet above ground with nothing but a harness around your ankles, you freeze. And you forget why you wanted to jump in the first place. And suddenly, more than anything else in the world, you want to get back on solid ground where everything is safe.
The words were on the tip of my tongue. I only had to say them. And I know he was waiting – anxiously anticipating – for me to say them. We had both said what needed to be heard and it all led to this one moment. I heard the sound of weariness and defeat in his voice too and I got angry. I wanted him to fight for it. Ironically, I wanted him to stop me and tell me I was wrong. But he didn’t. To my horror, he agreed and left it in my hands to do the deed. Neither of us wanted the blood on our hands, I sensed that. You know why they call it heartbreak? Because you physically feel a pain in your chest as your heart slams against your ribcage over and over. And it hurts so much; you just want it to stop.
“I’d rather be with someone compatible than someone I love. And you and I are not compatible.” Heart slamming. Not a good feeling.
Sometimes we argue about which movie to watch or whether Rottweilers make good pets. I guess last night was a whole new ballgame.
Last night, it nearly ended. But it didn’t. If it’s all good again, why is my heart still slamming?