Dec 6, 2011

The weaning-off period

Suddenly I don't feel like going out to town to get my nails done anymore, don't feel like trying on my prom dress to see if I can do that rose knot, don't feel like getting my hair done, makeup, don't feel like going into that room, don't feel like walking in heels, don't want to try to put on that mask of cheerfulness, don't want to try to be pretty, don't feel like spending the night with y-

So I'll change out of that dress - that I put on to try to look pretty for you but it doesn't matter anymore - and sit in front of a laptop to type, and then retreat to my bedroom where I'll curl up into a ball. I've cried too much in the past few months, and therefore I forbid grief. No need to cry anymore, you said. It was my fault really, I shouldn't have asked when I already knew the answer. I knew what it was inevitably coming to - an end. Didn't expect it to come so soon, maybe, before anything had the room to blossom again, take away the pain of months of silence. It wouldn't be half as bad if we tried to seize each day left now.

During that time I just kept thinking, if all it was coming to was an end anyway, we might as well cut the line now.

Pain is to be cut short, not prolonged.

So I'll focus on those who bring me up, who can't stand to see me push myself down into a pit of pain. Who put a stopper to the tears and stay with me till I laugh again.

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