Its the Process not the Destination

There were several trials of dates gone wrong. Time pressure dates that pitted them against each other and caused bubbling anger to burst out painfully and harmfully.  He grew difficult, she shut down.

He came to her, he told her honestly what he felt. He said he felt distance growing, that he couldn't connect any longer. Green eyes matched against green eyes. He pressured and prodded and questioned until she burst into tears and sobbed out hints of truths and pent up unhappiness. And he lay with her, his breath soothing. He pushed her back to her old self, reflective and fighting, and for the moment she was content. 

But he wasn't. He was tired of fighting her to fight her struggles. He was tired of being the target when her life backfired. He wasn't feeding off her happiness anymore, he wasn't intellectually stimulated by their discussions. 

She was annoyed with his short temper, hurt he would bail so quickly after she had endured a month of guilty torture, only to be relieved and then broken off from. She was wounded before, and this was the final blow.

The two planned a temporary break up allowing both to have time to recover and find themselves again, and figure things out from there.

The first day was the easiest. She was inspired with all kinds of activities to renew her dampened flame, and being free from guilt felt good. He wasn't her responsibility anymore. She smiled and laughed and threw herself into the things she loved. But she made the mistake of blindly reaching out to stroke the comfort that wasn't there anymore and was swallowed up by insecurities.

She cried. She was unsure if she missed the one who left, or the place he held. She hated him for all the things that bugged her. She hated herself for not being able to love them, and allow them to be shadowed by his greatness. She missed his hugs, his smiles, his laugh, his compassion for her. All she received was a cold wall from people who didn't care and she realized how much he gave.

She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know what she had. She was torn in the confusion of knowing the good parts and yearning for them from him, and not tolerating the bad. She saw a world of opportunity and retreated to the safety of the past. She hurt.

And what hurt most of all was knowing he didn't feel these same pains. He stood where she had stood weeks ago, trying to remember the good parts of the relationship. Now that the door was closing, she wasn't sure she wanted it to be over.

She made the mistake of seeing him, indirectly. She went to see the play he was in. The one he had rehearsed lines for while she highlighted readings on her back porch. He would explode in enthusiasm, and she would handle it like a mother handles the insane ideas of a hyperactive child. He told her of a scene he was uncomfortable with, one where he had to embrace a dude for a very long time, and said the only way he managed to get through it was to imagine he was hugging her. During the play, she sat, arms folded, leaning backward, legs crossed, as closed off as possible. It was painful to see him. She recognized all the liens he spoke with  a closeness that caused heartache. And when the long awkward embrace came, she thought of him thinking of her and burst into tears in the middle of the performance. Loud, heartfelt sobs that don't come from shallow matters. She couldn't close the floodgates, and she cried hours. She couldn't understand the plain she felt. She had wanted to be rid of him, she was supposed to be finding herself. She didn't want to stay hug up on a guy who used to center his world around her. She loved his actions, not his person.

He was the one who knew her better than anyone. He would call out her hypocricy, tell her her flaws to her face, and make her a better person. He had time at hand ready to devote to her, and she treated him poorly because he got on her nerves.

The combination of hatred and longing drove her nuts, and made the time trial unbearable. She wanted things to be solved, but she didn't know what she wanted. He could be the most amazing guy, and they could have the most amazing relationship if she deserved it. She could find a better guy whom she truly adored and start guilt free.

And so she chose both paths. She appeared unaffected on the outside. She was searching for someone better, and she was searching to find herself first. She smiled and laughed and marched through her activities without second guessing herself. Then she'd open up a world of gushing tears of guilt and self hatred to her friends and feel guilty she was getting attention for negative behavior, and try to relax, and then regret keeping things inside. She'd allow herself to admit she missed him and cry. 

So she felt both. She could go either way, and so instead of fighting it his way, she tried to ignore it. She put off thinking about it and followed her passions. She ran and danced and painted and baked and pushed herself so hard she forgot the subconscious pain. While it pitted within her, it was temporarily gone, and she waited in dread for the final confrontation that would decide it all, and she prepared herself for the results. Could she tolerate annoyances for the benefit of a deeply caring person who knew her like no one else? Could she recover from a relationship and find someone better? And so she wrote. She spent all her time doodling ideas and fantasies and personal strengths, and vents of anger and pain. Finally, its came time for the conclusion. 

The End

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