WHEN I peruse the conquer’d fame of heroes, and the victories of mighty generals, I do not envy the generals, Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house; But when I hear of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was with them, How through life, through dangers, odium, unchanging, long and long, Through youth, and through middle and old age, how unfaltering, how affectionate and faithful they were, Then I am pensive–I hastily walk away, fill’d with the bitterest envy.
Reading the last chapter of Esther Perel’s book, The State of Affairs, didn’t help. I’m saddened C didn’t care enough to even consider a conversation. For all of our talk that together we could work through anything as long as we are together was simply that: talk. “To repair is to re-pair,” writes Esther Perel in the last chapter. There is no re-pairing for us that I can see. Yet hope and romanticism continue mocking my desire to let go. It dances through my dreams.
The idea of being a partner for life only meant when it was good and as soon as it was Ugly she ghosted. True or not I certainly feel like I was simply a rebound. That it was her part in the act.
I so want to be done caring or remembering or feeling.
Yet still, I so want to sit and listen to what she has been going through. I just want to hold her and tell her how sorry I am. I so want to know her pain. I so want her truth.
Tragically, her silence is the only truth that matters.
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