An End

It has been a year of appalling loss. Loss of what we had in our lives, loss of what our lives may have had. Loss of what was, loss of what was to be. And when the words don’t exist to let the large losses live, it is only the small loss, the frail loss that the heart can carry. The expectation dashed, the smile refused, all of it. At a time when only the monumental is worthy of our notice, it’s the stone in our shoe that will break our hearts.

Bourbon has just told me to go away.

Politely.

With restraint.

Nothing cruel or unnecessary about it. To just, please, stop.

As many women know, to be bothered by someone we don’t want is a horrible interaction.

So this is the last blog. The last few words. The last time I write, the last time I mention him. I have sat and wondered and imagined a warmth in my heart that I had not deserved, and did not earn. I have to grow up, and please just stop. I made a totem out of the man’s audios, and somehow leaned on it, and on this foolish plank the irrationality grew.

And for some reason, it is this small loss, this scale, my heart can feel, and feel deeply. Maybe I had a self-image of worthy of him. Maybe I imagined myself being liked by someone who never thought, or worried about me for a moment, or maybe this house so far from everywhere was just a shell for my own detachment from the human race, and I should never have believed myself above the pedantic loneliness of anyone limited by time and space.

I can tell no one of these feelings, the insanity of them silences me. I can tell no one of who I am, ever, and that eternal silence makes nonsense of the aims of even a contented life.

I should never have spoken at all.