I’m done! I’m done, I’m done, I’m done!!
She throws her shoe on the ground and stomps away, feet percussing each syllable of her exclamation. It’s not a real shoe, though, and this isn’t a real room, either. But we’re trapped in here anyway. I watch her run around in circles, flailing her arms in the air, gesticulating with each word. I can’t take this anymore!
Mmhm, I say.
I mean it!, she insists. I’ve really had it this time!
I know, babe. She’s all energy—spiky like a sea urchin, blinding like a floodlight. I’m not sure exactly what she is. Another fraction of me? My heart itself? Whatever it is I’m seeing here, she’s on a rampage, and I’m the one slumped against the wall, sitting on the cold hard floor.
I’m so sick of this!
Aren’t we all? I respond, failing to not roll my eyes. I’m certainly starting to get sick of all her shrieking.
She kicks at the walls, throws items around that bounce off harmlessly. I can’t keep doing this, she says.
I know, I sigh. I really, really know.
I watch her dejectedly as she tries over and over to escape. She runs for freedom like a dog bolting across the yard not realizing that it’s tied to the fence. I don’t tell her there’s no point. I don’t tell her it’s hopeless. When she gets worked up like this, I find it’s best to just let her believe something will help. But when the pain worsens to this extent, I start to feel like my heart–our heart–is nothing more than a curse.
Finally, she deflates all the way after flying around our head like a balloon. She sinks down to the floor–into me–in defeat, and we sit there staring off into nothing in the silence.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Head, meet wall.
It’s January again in here now. I’ve accepted I’m just going to feel like shit for an indeterminate amount of time. That no potential romantic leads are going to strike any remote interest in me. That there’s just going to be a weight sitting on my chest from here on out.
Whatever remaining pieces of my deck still floating around are helpless to the waves, destined to mold and rot away in the sea. The new normal I was looking for is here at last. And it’s a constant, subtle taste of blood on my tongue.