I used to beat myself up for it, but then I realized dysfunction always finds the weakest place, like rain finds the valley
It’s like pressure finding the broken bolt in a ship, folding the entire metal sheet, boom!
“We’re done, your trip is through!”
It was inevitable
And it was a gift really that things blew apart
We had so much of it--
The pressure, I mean
He had such chaos growing up
Then all that stuff is still within and you try to meld to someone but at some point it’s going to find it’s way out
It always does
Anger becomes depression
(He buys thing,
I drank a bottle of wine a night)
The sex was good, but you could feel the desperation beneath it
Like, my God, are we going to keep choosing this?
Can we trust that?
And beneath it, all this sadness
He was like a deer always rushing to stay one step ahead of the hunter
It’s always sadness beneath it, driving everything
The next purchase, the next drink, the next wild bout of making up
Trying to stay just one step ahead of the hunter
I mean...you know?