A Conversation Long Due

Avoiding- I’ve mastered that art by now. I can do it with my eyes closed but moreover, I can nail it with my eyes open. I can see things with the empty stare of not having seen them. I can hear words with the sheer surprise of never having heard them, and I can avoid situations like they never presented themselves.

It’s as easy as shoving back an unpleasant memory. A dismissing head-shake and it’s gone. That’s all it took until she stood tall in front of me, head up, chin up, looking me in the eye as though challenging me with her daunting gaze. 

“Why don’t you love me?” 

I immediately break eye contact as if the slightest of eye movement would make her disappear. Unlike all the things I have been avoiding, she doesn’t go away simply after blinking. Her pinning look demands answers and I am nothing if not a questionnaire myself. 

I want to ask her why she hates me, why she avoids me, what part of me disgusts her. I have so many questions for her but firstly, does she really think I don’t love her? 

I do everything in my power so she looks happy. Which she does, when I’m not sticking around to judge her. 

It happens inevitably, I notice every hand movement, each breath of hers. It’s not judging per se but that’s how she takes it. 

When someone is already insecure about something, any vague comment aimed at that trait of theirs would offend them. Unfortunately for me, every word I say to her ends up creating a distance only wider between us. 

I try to comfort her but there’s no point. What’s said is said. She keeps misunderstanding my observations of her for toxic comments and I don’t bother correcting her. 

I’m so tired of everything that has been on my plate all day. The last thing I would want is to come home and feel the same exhaustion all over again. I hear her cries some days, when I ask her what’s wrong she says she doesn’t know. When I ask her how I can help, she says she doesn’t know. When I insist, she says I shall know better than that. She wants me to spend more time with her. 

Here’s the problem with that, she’s a maze. My questionnaire self can do just fine without having to spiral into another set of mysteries. 

However, occasionally I wonder what terrifying thoughts lie in the depths of that brain of hers. I’m not certain what they are but I know they are causing her hair fall problems. She covers it up before anyone can point it out. I wish I could help her out but the distance between us is almost tangible by now. I hardly recognize her anymore. 

 At this point we are so far away, I have gotten used to a life where I don’t have to see her every single day. 

But then while leaving work early one day, I glance at a mirror in the hallway. And there she stands, tall, head up, chin up, her daunting gaze looking me in the eye. 

“Why don’t you love me?”