A red miasma swirled in front of my eyes. I inhaled and zeroed in on what had happened just seconds ago.
Incessant dialing. My digits hurt from the repetitive punching in of numbers on my cell phone, and the bleeping dial tone soon seemed like the only sound left in the universe. I bit back a frustrated cry. And then he picked up.
It had been 8 days since then. Had he known? Had he even been counting?
‘I’m out, busy. What happened?’ he sounded, befuddled.
A red-hot flame flickered inside of me. ‘What happened? Don’t you know what’s happened?! When am I supposed to tell you about it, during all the time we spend together every day?’ I muttered an exclamation of disgust and jabbed the red button.
As much as I tried to calm myself, the conflagration in my chest would not subside. Rage fuelled it, and it ascended to further heights. The anger suffused each pore of my being, until I could feel it along every fissure of my spine.
I hated him so much then. If thought would kill, a mere fragment of an intention could have sufficed, he would have been dead by then.
I detested the fact that he held so much sway over me. Regret, there never was. I had thought everything through, and had always wanted whatever I had done. Yet, it all seemed like some gross miscalculation. As if the very heavens had conspired against me, out to prove me wrong.
Each particle of me exuded the angst that eons of neglect had caused. One blow after another. And then another. For how long was I supposed to pretend that I was made out of rock? Regardless, that rock had now been eroded by the waters of penitence and hurt that had been inflicted on it.
That was how I saw it. The feeling itself was a peculiar, pungent hatred. As much as I tried to get rid of it, it seeped into my bones and clung to me like an intangible wraith.
My temples throbbed, my brain pulsated like some live creature. I knew that soon enough, this anger would dissipate. And the next time I would see him, it would have effervesced to a dull depression. It was difficult staying away from him. What was worse, was seeing him happy and content without me. To hear him laugh in the strange rigmarole of false friends and phony emotions.
I clenched my fist, gritted my teeth, and waited for the anger to abate.
Incessant dialing. My digits hurt from the repetitive punching in of numbers on my cell phone, and the bleeping dial tone soon seemed like the only sound left in the universe. I bit back a frustrated cry. And then he picked up.
It had been 8 days since then. Had he known? Had he even been counting?
‘I’m out, busy. What happened?’ he sounded, befuddled.
A red-hot flame flickered inside of me. ‘What happened? Don’t you know what’s happened?! When am I supposed to tell you about it, during all the time we spend together every day?’ I muttered an exclamation of disgust and jabbed the red button.
As much as I tried to calm myself, the conflagration in my chest would not subside. Rage fuelled it, and it ascended to further heights. The anger suffused each pore of my being, until I could feel it along every fissure of my spine.
I detested the fact that he held so much sway over me. Regret, there never was. I had thought everything through, and had always wanted whatever I had done. Yet, it all seemed like some gross miscalculation. As if the very heavens had conspired against me, out to prove me wrong.
Each particle of me exuded the angst that eons of neglect had caused. One blow after another. And then another. For how long was I supposed to pretend that I was made out of rock? Regardless, that rock had now been eroded by the waters of penitence and hurt that had been inflicted on it.
That was how I saw it. The feeling itself was a peculiar, pungent hatred. As much as I tried to get rid of it, it seeped into my bones and clung to me like an intangible wraith.
My temples throbbed, my brain pulsated like some live creature. I knew that soon enough, this anger would dissipate. And the next time I would see him, it would have effervesced to a dull depression. It was difficult staying away from him. What was worse, was seeing him happy and content without me. To hear him laugh in the strange rigmarole of false friends and phony emotions.
I clenched my fist, gritted my teeth, and waited for the anger to abate.
1 comment:
ufffff i lovve ur blog... went thru the same stage 3 yrs ago n hav gotten over it noww..
I write on relationships mostly as well as some funny stuff.
I hope u can be a follower if u like my blog? Don’t forget to comment please !!
The Emotional Lava
Best of Luck for ur blogging.
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