Friday, October 24, 2014

when sadness betrays you


 Little writings I find on my computer make me happy.  I wrote the first paragraph YEARS ago, probably like, 2011/2012, when I was a cynical, bitter, loveless old lady.  I finished it in 2013/2014.


“I need not to feel; to be devoid of feelings that only feel good temporarily and hurt in the end. To care, to love, to experience passion—they are fleeting, like the sun: sure to rise yet sure to set. To be stuck in the throes of love is to wage war upon your own self. No, I need not to feel—feelings are fleeting. I need no perestroika, no knight, no setting and rising sun of emotional discord. I need solitude, and that alone. I will not share with someone his cloudy and marked past and I will not weep about the wrongs done to me. I do not want to be someone’s other option, even if I am their best, even if I have shown them what true love is. I do not have that to give. I am empty; I need not to feel.”
She cleared her throat as if to put a period on her statement, to sign it. Her eyes were watery but gave nothing else away—crystal cold, deep yet dammed. Her bottom lip trembled, her own body wishing to betray her words.
She touched her lip to steady the trembling and turned to look out the window. A small smile lit her lips, if only for a moment. Her conscience said, “But he’s out there somewhere, waiting for you. Waiting to change every insidious thought you have about love. You will be a hypocrite. And you will feel; with all of your soul, the love and passion you here now discolor.”

 

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