Thursday, December 21, 2006


I’m living a fantasy.

In that fantasy, I am unbreakable. I don’t feel; I can’t hurt. I am devoid of weakness, feelings. Humanity.

This morning, Mom asked me if I bought Colin a Christmas present.

I told her no.

Not because I didn’t want her to know what I bought him, more because I didn’t want her to know how much he means to me. If I don’t buy him a present, he’s a casual fling. And if he disappears tomorrow, I can feign disinterest. I can pretend that my heart isn’t broken.

I can, essentially, lie.

I can protect myself from the truth.

I wish that I knew the source of my desire to remain so disconnected. I’ve never been hurt in such a colossal way that I’ve had the conscious desire to be distant. I’ve never been the girl with the heart so broken that people look at me, sighing and murmuring about how I deserved so much better.

I don’t know what that feels like. And yet I spend so much energy protecting myself from it.


Amy said...

And those of us who had nod our head and related a little too much to your protection of your own heart. It is as if, sometimes, uttering the feelings aloud, will make them true and will then make us immediately subject to all the vulnerabilities that accompany that emotion.

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