R.E.M. - Losing My Religion
The words spill out of my mouth: bitter, hurtful, purposefully so. They are edged with acid, so as to tear down the wall of indifference you have built up against me. The distance between us may well stretch across the universe. I imagine looking into your eyes and seeing none of the warmth that used to infuse my days with light. I imagine looking into your eyes and seeing a chasm that is filled with a blank nothingness. I imagine, because I cannot actually do it.
I’ve said too much. I can feel you shutting down, powering off. A defense mechanism, I would have said, were it not for the fact that a man who does not feel anything has no need for defense. The realization hits me with the force five times that of gravity. The taunting laugh in my head grows incessant and piercing - I have lost my religion, the religion of perseverance, of determination, of both these things that should have kept our love alive.
You tried. Or I thought you did. Was it really all you could have done? Did your mind point-blank refuse to give anymore?
It infuriates me that all of my waking hours are saturated with you. It infuriates me because I know you do not mirror this. Fool, I think to myself. Am I lost? Am I blind to the truth staring starkly in my face?
And, like a fool, I continue on. I flail in the uncertainty of our future. I crash to my knees whenever you say I love you. Today, our life together is only a dream. But I keep trying. I must.