Not Good Enough

The windows are cold to the touch, reflecting the icy conditions inside the small apartment. Melting snow rolls down the windows. We stand in the chaotic living room drifting further and further apart from each other. She hadn't so much as glanced at me in the last twenty minutes, no did we speak. She has a look of disgust and confusion on her face. Nothing is making sense.
Why are you doing this? she speaks as if not expecting a response. Her voice piercing the still air of our speechless living room.
I'm not doing anything, I say. But even I don’t believe that.
Yes you are, you know you are. Why do you insist on escaping from reality, especially this way?
I stare at her like a lost puppy dog.
Answer me, she says.
Sit down, I say, but she cries instead.
Am I not good enough? she asks.
I mumble.
We can get you help, this can be fixed. You don’t need to turn to a needle every time something goes wrong.
I stare at her in disgust.
Silence builds.
A tear forms in the corner of her eye. She looks down and closes her eyes for what seems like forever. The sound of the shrieking tea kettle engulfs the air.
That’s when I grab her hand. I love you, I tell her, but I’m not what you’re searching for.
We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity.
That’s crazy she says, you love me and I love you. There’s nothing more to say.
She’s trying to fix this but the damage was done. She wants to say something I can tell, but letting go of her arm I turn away. I have already made my choice. My decision was clear. In this battle for devotion, she has lost.
She grabs her coat and purse.
And then she is gone.
She makes no indication of ever coming back.
I slowly sit on the floor. This is my fault, I thought. The anger, empathy, sorrow all overtake me. I search the floor and find the needle.
And for a moment, all was forgotten.





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