Pride or love (e altri desideri)

Here I lay, once again, with the imperative need to go out running, which usually happens after spending some time tossing and turning in my bed with all sort of thoughts, and things unsaid.  At 2am, it probably is not a good idea, however, some running is being done by my mind.  At different speeds, different flashes of arguments had, and retorts said (or unsaid), I lay in bed without the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. Why can’t romantic love be that fictional idea that novels and Disney make so appealing to us (from a very young age), and to which we so desperately cling to.  The hopeful wish that the love of your life,  after an argument/disagreement/or awkward phone call, will eventually contact you with out the usual “battle of power and righteousness”.  How is it that sweet (sometimes recent) memories become distant and obscured after a few days back to reality?  Earlier this week my lover and I spent two days together with some time to enjoy each other.  I don’t know how a male brain works, but mainly for me, when I spend time with him, everything seems magical, and for that moment, the world stands still, reality becomes better than any fairy tale, and the world finally makes sense.
After our non-extensive vacation (though it was more of a decreased sense of responsibilities), we returned to our homes and responsibilities with promises to continue the magic that  had started between fluffy pillows and considerably white linings. Twenty four hours after a short lived fairy tale, I lay, a bit frustrated, hours after not talking due to an awkward conversation (the only sort of communication through out the day) and I have to wonder, why is it that it’s easier for the guy to keep quiet and ignore?  Though with years of trial and error, and teary practices, I have managed to polish this attribute (which I so very much envied), and now I am proud to say that I too can pass countless hours without dialing his number, or trying to contact him(regardless of how bad my fingers urge to defy me)… Of course I have not yet been able to tame my mind, which is the main culprit for all the madness that, like tonight, keeps me awake. When I look back at how intense my 21 year old self use to be, I must say my 26th year old self has come a long way.  I am quite intense, and somewhat still needy, however, I have learned to channel that toward more productive activities; as a great example, my room is now impeccable, and tomorrow (actually, later on today) a good forecast can be made about the re-organization of my entire closet.  But, if I stop for one minute, all the suppressed feelings, questions, and worries come rushing back.  How do we get to this point, where silence is better than a loud disagreement, where neither side will get a point across (in our particular case, I believe, is because we are both hard headed stubborn people). I also wonder, will this newly developed pattern (newly developed for me, and perfection-ed for him) of not speaking and engaging in other activities, soon ripen into the abyss that separates so many married couples (and to think we haven’t even said our vows!).  So, boiling back to the origin of the raveling thought, should pride win? Or should one side give in, even though (sadly) it is usually the same side that gives in. Is it stupidity, or love?  Can one make a point by giving in, or is it better to not give in and let pride fuel the argument (which most of the time gets”lost in translation”, thought, and/or the recollection of events) and the reasons why we resorted to ignoring each other.  After quenching certain needs that boggled my being, I had the sudden and urgent craving to hear his voice, or to know that he too, was thinking about me, or missing me. But when I realized that he was probably sleeping, and was not bothered at all by the fact that we did not say good night, and stopped talking all together after he expressed some “mixed feelings” about my writing/thoughts, I decided against it… Instead my fingers found a way to get rid of some of that frustrating itch to press something, which use to be his phone number, but now, thanks to my alternative escape, I am able to resist the temptation… Finally, having drained some of the last sparks of energy, my mind, eyes, and body prepare to drift into the sweet darkness of sleep…

Advertisements