‘How about today?’ she wondered in a way any hopeful girl would. The patterns were just that; patterns. Their conversations were shapes, almost always a circle and rarely a heart. She was getting used to something she always said with certainty she’d never allow in her life. As she watched it play out (and play and play and play) she realized that they allowed it to become what they both feared, as they swapped roles – ones neither of them wanted to play.
He kept her around. His heart yearned for her some of the time. Not all because he wouldn’t let it. Because he couldn’t define the beats with logic, so he avoided them as if still. As if unaffected. As if not there, which as we have it would be heartless.
And she waited, expecting what she hope would eventually come (aligned with some inevitable enlightenment on his end), she wanted to be proven wrong. She trusted this deep feeling from within and gave it power. A feeling of intense, overpowering, electric chemistry. ‘It must mean something’ she would tell herself on repeat. It just must. A feeling never felt with anyone else, and he claimed he shared that same sentiment. And yet he avoids holding space for it. Honouring it. Appreciating a rarity so exceptional. Instead he forces himself to pretend it doesn’t exist. They both know better than that though.
And so, knowing he felt it, yet unable to be responsible for all the clutter that came alongside of it, he remained a part in, a part out. Confused. Uncertain. Doubtful. And this withdrawal gave him power. And he knew with said power he could attend to his own agenda, oblivious to hers. Unaware entirely to the waiting he’s created, stunting her in a disruptive way. He held her back. Isolated her. Knew his actions were crippling her yet unable to fully let her go. Selfishly waiting it out, with each new deadline uttered to her, merely buying himself more time.
What is time if not in the present? For one to wait for their life to begin, whilst breathing in the only moment we are for certain we have breath. Putting emphasis on lifes little things (sports games, back to school, the gym) anything to avoid being intimate with himself. With her. A lifeless life he leads as he waits and plans and pushes aside the reality which is growing up. ‘How sad it must be’, she thought ‘that his life is but a plan for a future, missing the present which he is granted.’ He misses the actual journey. The here. The now. As he tries (almost too hard) to find and create meaning in his life, he in fact misses what’s most important in it. Acceptance from the one and only who see’s him for him despite his cracks and quirks.
One need not let go, but instead need to let in. For to let in is to allow the heart to beat, both left and right sides of the brain to remain active, to breathe in the richness of reality, not watering down the purity of their concoction, as intoxicating and inviting as it is.
Trapped she was in an uncertainty he was likely certain about (with no justification). She arrives at a park. The White snow rests heavily on one half of the obviously uneven teeter-totter, weighing it down. The cold seeps into the metal toy, rusting it as time goes on.
– Jenny Jen
Photo Credit: BANEFUL & BEAUTIFUL