Ruth is a full-time writer. Foodie. Happy camper. Wanders a lot. Used to have the worst taste in men. A reformed swipe-a-holic. Reviving her blog after its death.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Because the bitch in me had to get out
Pat and I had another non-fight tonight. I term it as non-fight because we didn’t have a fight. It was more like I-stopped-talking-and-he-started-apologizing kind of thing. I got annoyed with him for a very shallow reason.
He started saying sorry and with every word, my heart melted for him. But I never opened my mouth to tell him that it’s alright.
While driving with him beside me, I was thinking how good his hands would feel against mine or how warm I would feel inside when he snuggle close to me and tease me with his silly high-pitched voice. I was thinking how hugging him beats the happiness I feel when I stare at the hundreds of sunflowers every summer in UP. I was thinking about his perfectly-shaped lips and how mine would fit perfectly in it.
But I never said a word. Not even when he reached out for me and touched my elbows. Not even when he coaxingly traced my arms with his fingers. Not even when he said his apologies for the nth time.
I was being a bitch, I know. This is not an excuse for my actions but every time I come close to getting hurt, my systems just shut down. Whenever I get mad at him or vice-versa, I enter this cocoon where everything’s safe because I automatically numb my feelings.
I know it’s wrong but I enter that Zone unconsciously. Saying sorry is such a bitch.
The funny thing is I don’t want to ever lose him. As soon as he got off from my car, I wanted to call him back and kiss him. To tell him that I was being hormonal, so will he please forgive me? Or tell him jokingly that he should be able to read my thoughts or at least pretend that he could most of the time.
Of course, I did none of those things. I went home feeling the emptiness beside me.
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