Sunday, March 7, 2010


There had been a rift in communication… there had been a rift in sanity. The slow downward spiral into a state of despair was assumable, but at least this time there would be some fight against it. He had always followed her around as if clinging to her coattails, afraid to miss a second.

Every moment was a subtle reminder of what happened, it was a stinging memory of how simple it was to force change; unfortunately comfort and pride got in the middle of this unsavory dance, as it normally does. Every picture, every piece of clothing, every breath came with a time that had yielded something more, something that was inherently pure.

The seemingly painful period of silence had left them weak, it left them aching for some classic state of normalcy, a situation that was not only always welcome, but now it was simply craved—each fixing for their share, as if fiending for that drug all over again. No longer did the idea of separation help to suggest how needed it may be, there was no benefit coming from the situation, just perpetual pain. It was an easy fix, but in fixing it, would that be taking the easy way out? It would undoubtedly take just one of them to stick to their guns and try to break the vicious cycle, but as awful as the cycle could feel at times, there was the hope that the connection which was refusing to be severed was somehow much stronger.

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