June 12, 2012
Her words turn to ash in my ears. She's making herself feel better by pouring out all this poison, but it does not just wash down my back, it soaks me to the bone. These words about him, about his silence and withdrawal, and his coldness and inability, or unwillingness, to show gratitude - I know they're true. I am reminded of my life before adulthood, and it makes my limbs sag and my heart grow heavy. She feels better, but I walk around with this rotting apple in my belly. When we come back there he is, quiet and distant.