Category: <3

this weekend i had m and b over here at the house for a pool party and outside fire.

it was a pretty big deal for me, and for my kids too. i know i put in a lot of effort, i did my best to make sure everything was in great shape for the day, the pool, the yard, the house, the snacks…. all of it! i also made sure to drop enough hints to the kids so they also knew how important this was.

pretty much the entire day went really well! everyone had fun in the pool, the girls baked a cake together, the boys and i played basketball and chatted… after a busy day i started a fire in the firpit and brought out all the stuff for smores while the boys played in the pool again and the girls played with a garden snake they found!

all in all, it was pretty great!

but then things suddenly turned, and i don’t really know why.

b decided he was bored and said so, loudly. m did not like that and told him so. b then did what little boys do and goofed around and pushed back in silly ways like “accidentally” splashing some water around from his plastic cup and otherwise being rebellious in harmless ways.

i am very much of the mind to NOT interact and legitimize that kind of thing and instead continue on like nothing happened. when you teach a kid their outbursts do not yeild attention, they become less incentivized to do so.

i don’t think m looks at it that way. instead i think she sees these things as a cry for help that require immediate attention, maybe as a result of her childhood?

in any case, i didn’t think any of this was a big deal until everyone left me alone at the fire. i ended up heading inside at one point and met up with m who was on the verge of tears, i guess because her a b were alone… but by her own doing it seems? she asked to not be alone with b, so of course i jumped into action and joined them for a game of basketball and then l eventually joined us as well.

i guess i still hadn’t clocked that were was a bigger problem here until later when the kids went to go play some video games and m started talking to me more. i had a lot of trouble following her, i think she made up a bunch of things in her head to fill in blanks which were not true at all.

she focused a lot on how b was out of his comfort zone and questioned whether any of us made the effort to comfort him or make him feel included or special (which we very much did)… and then questioned if i had considered checking on the kids myself and making sure mine were doing whatever they could to accomodate b… which, to be honest, is kinda shit because they are KIDS and you cannot have that expectation of them… but none the less i know that at least l was very much on that wavelength and was making efforts.

then it turned and twisted into something i don’t really understand. there was a bit of a panic attack and then a suggestion of drowning the problem with alcohol…

suffice it to say, the night ended on arguably the worst note possible between m and i and i did everything i could to salvage. in return i got some self deprecating remarks about how i deserve better and i don’t owe her anything and i am not obligated to continue “this”… all of which i disregarded in the moment in an effort to at the very least allow everyone to get some sleep as i did fear that much of this was fuelled by sleep depravation.

i need to bring this up again to her and get to the bottom of it, because this cannot happen again. not like this.

i am worried she gave up a little bit, that maybe i am fighting for this a bit more than she is. or at least that i am fighting for a positive outcome anyways…

the house is quiet tonight.

not the peaceful kind of quiet,
where everything is exactly where it belongs.

the other kind.

the kind where the refrigerator hum
sounds like a distant highway,
and every room feels a little larger
than it did when the day began.

Ii sit here,
surrounded by evidence of a life
that somehow survived itself.

photographs.
projects.
half-finished plans.
a future i once thought was impossible,
and another future i was certain would happen
but didn’t.

the strange thing is,
if you had asked me two years ago
whether i could endure all of this,
i would have said no.

absolutely not.

yet here i am.

still making coffee in the morning.
still paying the bills.
still worrying about my kids.
still fixing broken things.
still finding songs that make me pull the car over
just to listen one more time.

still here.

sometimes I think life changes
like a car skidding on black ice.

you don’t steer toward where you’re going.

you stare in disbelief
at where you’ve already ended up.

a different house.
different dreams.
different fears.

different love.

and somehow,
the road continues.

tonight,
certainty feels very far away.

the future feels blurry.
the heart feels brave one minute
and terrified the next.

i look at the empty chair across the room
and wonder how many versions of myself
have sat exactly where i am now.

the husband.

the father.

the musician.

the man who wanted to leave.

the man who was afraid to leave.

the man who hoped.

the man who lost.

the man who found something new.

all of them still living somewhere inside me,
arguing quietly in the dark.

but beneath all that noise,
there is something else.

something older.

a voice that says:

look at everything you’ve survived.

look at the fires.
look at the heartbreak.
look at the impossible conversations.
look at the nights you thought
you had ruined everything.

you are still here.

not untouched.

not certain.

not finished.

but here.

and maybe that’s enough for tonight.

maybe tonight doesn’t require answers.

maybe tonight only asks that I sit
with this strange, unfinished life,
listen to the quiet,
and trust that tomorrow
will reveal itself
the same way every other tomorrow has.

one ordinary sunrise at a time.

you’re so selfish. a peculiar kind of selfish wrapped in the most beautiful of selfless wrappers. you’ve perfected your craft into art almost, it is enchanting, it is admirable, it is pitiable, it inspires awe. with great intention, it transforms your worldly appearance into a form so wildly different than your truth that no one would ever believe it. not even yourself.

but still, for a moment, i saw you. the real you. granted, it was only a glimpse, you wouldn’t ever let me actually see the whole you, but none the less, i saw you.

and the you i saw didn’t scare me. you didn’t worry me. you didn’t upset me or sadden me or make me feel anything but love for you. and yet, even though it was the only thing i wanted, the only thing i needed from you, you couldn’t allow that.

i tried to tell you in my own way. i’m not infallible in this, i could have done so much better, but i used the tools and judgement i had at my disposal. i know it wasn’t enough to make you understand. i know i wasn’t enough to make you want to change even if you did understand.

this was always supposed to be a fantasy for you, wasn’t it? this was never supposed to bleed into the real world. fantasy is safe, fantasy has no accountability, fantasy has no compromise. fantasy has no real vulnerability. but… i can never find happiness in the fantasy. of all places, you know that is the one place i cannot live. you know how my mind works, you know the games i play with my own thoughts, you learned about limerence from me, remember? forcing this to exist in the make believe kept me broken, confused, scared.

for you, the fantasy was safe, and reality was not. for me, the opposite is true.

you should have listened to me from the start. i was not the one for you, i never was. too many red flags. too many complications. don’t you dare say you were not scared or that you wanted to find solutions to those road blocks, that is a lie, and we both know it.

i should have listened to you when you retreated the first time and i should have left it alone, i should have known i would only bring you hurt. but i am selfish too.

i’m sorry.

you should know, not a day goes by that i don’t think of you. you’re still the first person i think of when i wake up, and the last i think of before i fall asleep. i love you and i think i have from the moment we met, and i suspect i always will. but none of that matters any more.

i never imagined ours to be a tragedy, this story was not supposed to end like this.

–

have a very good night, and a very sleep tight. i hope you have beautiful dreams, even if you don’t remember them.

it was always about control, wasn’t it? i think that’s the way you are broken most of all. you need that control all the time. not in a way that’s like “i need to feel happy, i need to feel safe” but in a much darker and more destructive way. you need to have control, it is involuntary and you will sabotage and destroy everything around you in order to ensure you, and only you, can dictate the terms of engagement. and you don’t even realize it. do you?

you were never going to choose me. this distance, this obstacle, this impossible to resolve situation, it’s perfect for you, isn’t it? you have a barrier, a control mechanism. you can hide behind it and retreat whenever you want, whenever it gets too real. you were only ever going to peek around the edges, never crossing the line. i see that now… and it makes me sad.

the fact that this is how the story ends is tragic. i don’t want to accept it, but i think i have to. the alternative is to chase after you and surrender everything to you once more. the problem is, i’m worth more than that. i deserve more than that. i need more than that. and you’ve made it abundantly clear, you will not be providing me with any of that.

so, i am truly sorry,, but this is it. the end of the road. terminus, tout le monde debarque.

goodbye a.