I was half deaf by the time I got home; I played the music so loud in the vain hope of silencing the voices in my head. I raced every car on the road hoping that my car would be faster than the thoughts racing through my mind. Today, I discovered a new dimension of the word "turmoil"; that word never felt as lively as it feels now. I cannot say that I am hurt; I did not get to know him that well or that long. I do not dare talk about feelings for him; he did not reach that deep within. I am just angry; this time my anger is airbrushed with violence. I wanted to slap him; I could feel my hand coming from way behind my ear, my palm pushing against the fine particles of air, my slap landing on his face with all the power I had in me, and I could hear the sound of the explosion as my fingers left their mark on his face. I wanted to hurt him, to shake him, to throw him off guard, just as he did to me. As he dropped me off, I jumped out of his car before I did something to regret. I got in my car and flashes of our conversation struck me like glimpses of lightening. A silent scream escaped my soul and a frozen tear lay still between my eyelids. I was gasping for air.
Is he a bad guy? Not at all! He is a nice and sweet man in the body of a kid. In ten days, he managed to put me in words; he managed to formulate the intricacies, contradictions, sudden turns, dead ends, and blocked roads of my dark maze - the maze that confused the most avid explorers. Then he encouraged me to "just be me", expressed his sadness that I filtered my words before they fell into his lap, and gave me all the verbal and non verbal signs that I would be safe from harm. I landed my heavy loads on him, his face changed, his mind took over, and his heart stopped beating for me. He told me that he wished I were his wife but this - my maze - was too advanced for him. I watched the spark die in his eyes and I felt his soul distancing me. The master of the word was lost for words. Uncomfortable silence, courteous smiles, and small talk added to the heavy feeling of loss - my worst fears. No matter how sugar-coated it is, rejection hurts. Raging voices from the deep void in the center of my body blurred my vision and my thoughts. I sat still but my crucible was boiling and the rotten steam of my burning guts filled my senses.
Were I in his shoes, I would have probably done the same. I understand his logic and comprehend his reasons. In me, he saw the incarnation of the devil - a cute seductive devil that would replace his faith by an insatiable need for adrenaline. After all, I am the master of mind games! I am eternally grateful for self-control, pride, and will power. I gracefully backed off by offering my friendship, apologizing for not going to a big bash with him, and announcing that I will take a few steps back. Restlessness was crawling on me, bugs were numbing my mind, and I wanted to be home alone with my cats and my laptop. We were both sorry for the loss of what could have been a great trip in the human psyche. I had something else to be sorry for; I was sorry for being me, for being real, for being a bit above the average girl. Now, at this very moment, I wish I were anyone else but who I am now. What was the drill, again? Oh yes, bottle it up, push it down, shove it beneath, and burry it all in the black box.
I can't get that song out of my head: (Humming) Time can never mend the careless whispers of a good friend ... To the heart and mind, ignorance is kind ... there's no comfort in the truth ... pain is all you'll find ... Should've known better ... I feel so unsure ... as I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor ... as the music dies, something in your eyes ... calls to mind the silver screen ... and all its sad good-byes. I'm never gonna dance again ... guilty feet have got no rhythm ... though it's easy to pretend ... I know you're not a fool ... We could have been so good together ... We could have lived this dance forever ... But no one's gonna dance with me - Thank you George Michael!
