Think Anew, Act Anew

observations and opinion

broken hearted girls

Frozen_Lake

She doesn’t know what she was thinking about when she locked her keys in the car.   Well, she does know – her head was in a cloud of damp disappointment, distressed at how stubborn and mean her husband can be.  Now the keys are inside and she is outside.  And when she calls him for help, because he is being stubborn and mean, he won’t bring his set of keys over from work.  “Too busy” apparently.

If she calls a tow truck to jimmy the door open, her husband will bitch about the bill and mutter how stupid she was, to lock her keys inside.  And she will believe it, because feeling stupid is how she feels all the time now.

*   *   *

He knocked, heard a voice and pushed the office door to have a quick word at the end of the day.  She had her coat on and was staring vacantly into space.

“God you look sad”  he said.  It was true, but it was a stupidly impulsive thing to say.

She smiled and said “yes, but I’m not sad to see you.”  A generous response to a stupid, clumsy greeting.  Maybe she didn’t mind being seen, for who she really was, at that moment.   She was sad, and tired of being sad.

Looking at her he wondered, how much longer is she going to let herself be so unhappy at work, before she sees there is another way of life?   And of course the answer is, not until she sees there is another way of life.

*   *   *

Middle school looks especially grim through the gauzy film of a sleepless night.   Just before bed, her best friend called and glibly cancelled a weekend away.   It was unexplained and felt like a slight.

“Damn, it’s hard to have a heart” your father said, with his arm around you.  Yep.

When your dearest friend treats you casually – worse than casually, cruelly – it cuts.   You keep your earbuds in all night.  You wear your glasses to hide your eyes.   You try not to talk so that you don’t cry.

And then in the car you listen to that new song  and a smile breaks out against your will.   It’s still a broken-hearted Friday, just not so broken-hearted as a minute ago.

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This entry was posted on January 31, 2014 by in what is this thing called love?.
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