Here’s today’s post for 31 days of five minute free-writing:
So many things I want to say. But my words are bound; if there’s no listening, there’s no internalising, there’s no understanding. Stale mate. No-one wins. None of us. I think of the times we used to talk and talk for hours. Everyone, everywhere we went, amazed because we’d just talk and talk and talk. I try to follow the trail, backwards, to discover at what moment, at what point, things started to unravel, to bifurcate: him going off, alone, blazing his own trail to nowhere, me trying to stitch things back together as quickly as possible. Never quick enough. The unraveling too fast, too swift for my stitches. They paled in to insignificance, not sufficient to hold forth the deep, deep splits that had been born in that ‘somewhere, sometime’ moment. I say to myself, over and over again, that it’s time to move on, time to heal. I say it to convince myself. To propel myself forwards, to more stable ground. But, inside, my heart has deep, deep splits, also, that I don’t even know how to begin to stitch together.