#will you just decide
Gloria, will you just decide
Gloria, there’s easier ways to die.– The Lumineers, Gloria
He throws the glass at me. It is the tenth time this week. I think it’s still nice compares to the last time when he throws everything at me twenty times in a week.
Get out. I don’t want to see you, he says.
So out of the room I go. I don’t know since when it becomes a habit for me. For us. He would either throw random things at me or love me senseless. And there’s nothing in between. So there will be his better days when I am a saint in his eyes and on his brain, and he will beg me for more love.
But there will also be days like this one, where I am a beggar, lying by his feet, begging for his mercy.
I go out in the cold, dark night. There are plenty of place I can stop by. Plenty of temporary lovers and temporary whores. Plenty of temporary families and familiar faces. And yet, staring at the starless sky with a blurry half-moon, I don’t want to go anywhere.
I want to tell him that it’s enough. That I finally had enough of his childish tantrums, his unreasonable mood swings, his crying, his laughing.
You won’t love me if you know who I am, he says.
Why? Who are you then? I don’t know of many men who have that power, I say. Flattering always works in my favor.
You won’t love me. You don’t love me now, and you won’t love me after. I just know it. Don’t ask me. I just know it.
Turns out he’s wrong. Or maybe he’s right in some parts. But for the most of it, he’s wrong.
I love him I love him I love him –
I crouch down on the front porch of his house, holding my head between my leg.
I love him I love him I love him, but –
I finally understand the fear of his previous lovers, who have all turned to some indestructible ghosts in his heart and on his mind. A fear which humans are not built to endure.
And by understanding it, accepting it, swallowing it, consuming it, I have lost so many things in the battle against a monster we cannot see nor touch nor wound nor kill nor –
I love him I love him I love him, and yet –
I cry, and suddenly realizing that he can hear it, I cover my mouth and push the fierce force from my heart onto the tears that are dropping on the concrete floor. I wish I had not crossed that specific bar on that specific day. I wish I had more control of my heart than just following fickling, impulsive passion.
I wish I had believed in the power of love less than the normal person would.
I hear the sound of the door opens behind me. I turn back, and here he is, my beloved angel, who G-d had forgotten to bless.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, he says, all his tears and snots smear on my shirt and turn it into a darker color.
Never mind that. You are not at fault.
Neither are you.
I look at him, at the hazel irises that I have grown to love and hate with all my heart.
I told you twice. You won’t love me if you know who I am.
But darling, I am still in love with you, I tuck a loose strand of hair on his ears and cup his face in my hands. The blurry moon shines on his hazel eyes makes them look like a pair of jewels to me. Bright and shiny and not easy to find and never belong to me.
Really? You still love me now?
Yes, yes, yes.
As he curls himself into my embrace, everything finds it place again, and we go back to the start of it all: the sweet moment before he throws the glass at me.
I wonder how long will it be this time? How long do I have to wait until his better days come around again?
Yes, there’s easier ways to die. And among the easier ways to die, I choose to waste my life on loving him.
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