It’s snowing outside just a little and I’ve been awake since 4, since he woke up, since our silent sadness shook his sleep one too many times and he shut the door, went into the next room, sat down at his computer. It’s horrible to be the cause of all this, horrible to not know if I’m right or wrong, horrible to have shattered what was to be another perfectly lovely evening of our perfectly lovely life together.
Because we do have a life together – whatever I may tell myself. This is my life and his together. And I’ve called it all into question and neither of us know where to turn. We both know that this is the simplest thing we’ve ever been a part of and that’s rare and good. But is it enough for me? Is that simplicity sustainable without a deeper current running underneath it? Or is that just it: that one needs something simple so that one can build upon it – a primer. I have all the metaphors in the world. All the shitty overused metaphors and even a few that my own. But none of the changes my indecision, my confusion, my lack of conviction. And it’s my mine to have. He told me his.
It’s 7:40 in the morning and I’ve already done a great deal of my work for the day. That is a good feeling. The rest of this day is grey and ulcerous and shriveled.
