Like She Does

So here's to a miserable night and a miserable day spent in bed, resolving to not move a limb. Ever. Or as long as I could get away with it.

I cried my eyes out. And I forget why. No, I'm not disoriented, just bi-polar. NOT the same thing. What triggered it, was pretty stupid. Sides of a fucking slice of bread ending up in a hard blow in the gut and a tight slap on the face. It didn't hurt.

What was it really then? A year and a half worth of stifled anger, asperity, frustration, anguish, disappointment, regrets and just simply the passage of time. My amnesia provides me with it, thank you very much.

So I fall. And resolve never to get up. It's a very comforting thought, I tell you. That of just giving up. Clean, easy and diverting. Even if adroitly so.

And then she comes. She has a way with me like no one else does, or ever really could. And I hate her for it. I try everything from repression, avoidance, projection, pretense, icy indifference, rationalization, denial to downright dirty acts. Erratic fits of temper, hollering foul abuses, shoving the pillow in her face, kicking about violently. You name it. Anything to make her leave.

She doesn't.

'ARGH! FOR FUCK'S SAKE! GET THE FUCKING HELL OUTTA HERE!'

'You want milk? I'm warming some for me.'

'I want you the hell away from me, bitch.'

'So that's a no.'

'UGH! WHAT DO YOU WANT OF ME?'

'Get out of bed.'

'Not gonna happen.'

'Why not?'

'Cause I don't fucking want to.'

'It's nice and sunny outside.'

'Look, I don't care if you are warming milk, or if it's fucking sunny outside. I want to stay here and get miserable, and rot, and die. So you can have your milk and shove the fucking sun up yours.'

'Hey, I know what's happening and it'll be okay. I know that because you're gonna make it okay. Yeah?'

'...Yeah.'

And so we went out and lay in the warm sun. It was the most placid afternoon in a long, long time.

By evening, my eyes were swollen and red from all that crying, my head throbbing. It didn't matter. I was back to figuring my way out through the mess.

She picked me up,

like she always does.

Every single time.