My Face Could Never Lie

by HelluvaGirl


Just took a peak at my old photos. Some of the memories are striking.

If I could choose one picture and call it Divorce, it would be this one. 

My eyes:

I’m so sorry; I know how much you’ve done for me and how ungrateful my choice is. I don’t want to hurt you any more and I know I am, more than ever. I am afraid and I have no clue what’s waiting for me once I try to walk on my own two – if I ever tried, I forgot it ages ago. I don’t know if I’d turned away and left the day we met, had I known this would be the course of our feelings today. Perhaps I wouldn’t have – look at her, she’s still ours, and she came out of Love. And it makes me sad and hopeless to think even that does not help to stay and be happy together. I’m so sorry, I can’t experiment with treatments any more – have you thought we might be lacking the ultimate binding component? I always thought Love had no past tense. Is this what Not Loving feels like? We have to stop before we’re walking dead.

My jaw:

I take the responsibility for the decision we both wanted to make for a while. I know almost everyone will blame me, especially her, and I accept it. I will die if I don’t transition from my safety capsule into the real life. I have to become me. I want to do this even if I will not gain what I expect, even if I’ll live poor, miserable and alone – I choose it over being provided for, taken care of and living numb. I choose to be misunderstood and judged and even mistaken – instead of being decent, composed, grateful and not there.

I write this with a tender sentiment to Pia’s Father, feeling happy for his new beginnings. And mine.