The pressure is building. It's like watching a boiling pot with water rising, waiting for it to spill over and go in separate directions, never to come back together again. I'm not talking about the end of the world or a cultural phenomenon. My question is more personal—could it be that we're coming to the end of us, you and me?
Us—the relationship, the togetherness, the way we mean something to each other. The way I could see and appreciate your humanity and feel you could see and value mine. I feel like we’re losing this. The very thought brings tears to my eyes. The pain of it leaves me in disbelief. How did we end up here?
I had such hope for us. There was a time when I couldn’t imagine a life without you. I remember how you overwhelmingly brought laughter, love, and comfort to my life. The thought of your absence was an image too painful to bear.
Now, I struggle to see a future where our lives are closely knit or connected at all. I wonder when the scales tipped and we stopped bringing goodness to each other. When did strife became the hallmark of our togetherness?
Yes, we’ve always had our differences. But I believed our love for each other would persuade us to choose one another. I thought we had a similar idea of what loving the other person meant. That when we learned how we harm each other or those we both care for, our idea of love would make us want to change, to stop causing harm and make amends.
I hoped our connection would help us grow and change in ways that, even when we don’t understand each other, we’d trust and believe in each other's experiences, fears, and pain. That we wouldn’t cling to what we know as acceptable, comfortable, or common so much that we ignore or deny what is different, unfamiliar, and also true. That our word to each other would be believed over the hype and noise all around us.
Yet, here we are. I’m afraid of where we go from here. Mostly because I anticipated only death could bring such an end. Perhaps this is the beginning of our living end.
Opmerkingen