So this is the wrath that I feared all along. This rage that made me cower, made me hide, made me silent, made me dumb. This is the anger that I wanted to avoid by making excuses and a dozen rationalizations that kept me from growing out of an under-sized shell. And when I peeked out, stood with wobbly legs, raised my arms in defiance and faced indignation in all its glorious but undignified, irrational fury, it was nothing but a fart, a farce, a remnant of Neanderthal thinking. I laugh at its face neither feeling pity or apology. I let it wash over me like devil’s vomit but my body is protected ten times over with grace.
I can see both sides. I can see his pain. I can see her pain. I can see nobody wants to give in because both think they have given enough to share the burden. I can see his dreams drop and shatter into a million pieces. I can see her dreams have never mattered because he thought they had the same ones. But their dreams couldn’t be more different than day is from night. Two dreams intersected in points they both can’t see now because of blindness masked by too weak and too strong wills. He can’t understand why her mind shifts like tectonic plates destabilizing everything they had built together. She can’t understand why he can’t adjust to circumstance or review a range of options. He is sick of her immaturity. She is sick of his inflexibility. He is tired of her flakiness. She is tired of pretending. They have lost faith in each other. They have both lost patience. They have both lost.