"I just...I can't do this anymore. I don't want to."
"Ok,' he replied softly, sadly.
I hit the end button on my phone. I let my face crumple into a mess and commence sobbing. It hurts, yes, the thought of what will happen now. It hurts like hell. But it no longer surprises me and catches me off guard. It's like going to the dentist to get that routine cleaning, knowing what was coming, knowing exactly how and when and where it was going to feel. But that doesn't make it any better. And this is a bit worse than an annual hygenic procedure.
I walk backed into the house and turn into the bathroom, grabbing a wad of toilet paper to blow my nose, I hate not being able to breathe.
Everything is brighter and clearer after crying, compared to how obscure tears make things. I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere.
I look in the mirror and see that I am a mess, not that I really expected anything else. Surveying the tarnished landscape of my face: my eyes are puffy, red, and nearly drowning; eyebrows slanted outward in a sad basset-hound appearance; my cheeks wet and red, like my nose which looks even bigger now. I look like everyone does when they cry, I suppose. For a second I remember a friend once telling me how beautiful girls look when they cry. I try to find the beauty in this. Maybe there would be something striking about it to some ecclectic photographer trying to find something artistic behind it. But otherwise pathetic, in my opinion. I used to never cry. I couldn't ever cry, and now I'm so used to the feeling of dry salt of my face and stuffed sinuses, I almost welcome them like I welcome the moon rising. This is me I see, for sure. But a me I didn't think I'd ever see this often. And like many other times, I wish I could draw well. For whatever reason I just want to be able to capture the way I look, crying. Maybe to give to him as a constant reminder. Maybe to give to myself as a reminder of what I haven't been able to see for myself.
I shut the light off, simultaneously hoping to shut off everything for now. I just need to got to bed, sleep away for some time. Making my way about the house I let myself be empty as I can be, doing the things that require no real cranial effort. Shutting off lights, locking doors, taking contacts out, changing. Climb into bed, turn over, let everything drift.
I'm just so tired now. I don't know if I can hold up a rootless tree anymore.