Things I do to stave off the fear of sleep

I'm home alone for a while, but I guess I shouldn't have told you that... anyways I write, the sound of the keys is soothing I guess

Love stories look a certain way. Boy meets girl, boy pursues girl somehow, girl pines for boy and bing bang boom, tadda happy couple. Well what happens when it doesn’t work even remotely close? What happens when you skim the surface of a relationship until you’ve actually skinned the relationship surface? Skinned it raw, those cuts that seem so inconsequential yet hurt so much longer, heal so much slower than those deep cuts that leave a scar. There is no battle wound, no brave story to regale your drinking partners with, there is just the lasting memory of the pain of a moment that maybe should have gone deeper but staled amidst the excruciating pain of the skinning or shouldn’t have even frictioned the surface of the relationship skin altogether.

AB and I have joked we have the makings of the greatest never love story, we have a skinned relationship. We didn’t friction the surface, though my face maybe had a moment of that… we skinned it and then thought that time would do what time can’t do, put the skin fragments back together. There is no surgeon in the world, from nighttime drama fame or real life that can master that. You can graft a new piece on, you can let time crust it over, or you can gasp, breathe deep and for some insane reason follow a bizarre compulsion and cut deeper. The skin is crusting. Crusting skin is the worst. I don’t function with crusting skin. No amount of expensive anti aging crème that I’ve got stock piled is going to do what a graft or a deeper cut could have done in this moment. A graft says we go back, patch, and work at sewing the edges, we’ve realized that it can't work now or maybe ever, but what was right, was right enough to fix this. I though we were right enough to fix. I guess not. Or you cut deeper and know that the pain disappears and maybe that cut, maybe that cut is what you need, as Leona croons, she’s bleeding love, maybe we would, maybe it would, and maybe that would have done something to heal this whole sordid mess. But silence keeps the skin on crusting, keeps us where we are and life moves us forward forcing us to make decisions about everything but the wound. The wound gets left, it might gangrene at this rate, it likely will, it likely will result in the exorcising as one person gets frustrated with the choices regarding healing and moves on.

Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/squidcake/3713645494/