You know those arguments couples get into, that usually go a little something like this —

"I love you but I can’t do this anymore," she would say.

He wouldn’t take it lightly, as he should have, because she’s not saying it to insinuate she isn’t happy with him, she just isn’t happy with the situation, whatever that may be.

Usually, the situation is something like, she wants more outta life, and he thinks everything is a-okay. His feelings get hurt because he’s taking it personally. She doesn’t intend to hurt him, she just wants him to know what’s going on inside her head.

I'm at this point right now in my relationship. This isn't something I typically write about much, other than prose or poems from the heat of the moment. I never write about this more thoughtfully. I've never given these bones more meat.

It's time.

I love Michael. He basically rescued me and nurtured me back to health and sanity. He was very patient, very understanding. He's taught me a lot.

But I'm past that now. I can nurture myself. I can process my way through emotions. My depression is on a leash, and we've learned to walk well together. And my mind is now an endless supply of ideas, no longer concerning me, but concerning the whole.

I keep saying it, and I'll keep saying it. I want freedom.

I hate living in the city. I hate going to work. I hate having to earn money. I hate having to use said money. I am disgusted by what I see and the lack of care in people. I am not willing to waste another year of my one short life doing something I hate, and living a lie.

I will not be a walking hypocrite.

There are major communication issues in this relationship, which I have brought up a great many times, in a great many ways, only to be told, "we'll talk about it later. (Insert excuse here.)" And this drives me absolutely crazy. Nothing is achieved, my feelings and thoughts are pushed aside, as if to say it can wait.

He's so hard to read and that gets frustrating. He doesn't ever talk about himself or what he wants from life, other than the answer I always get. "I want to make plates." Vague.

He knows my plans, he knows I want to run away and live with the trees. I have no idea what he thinks of this really, because he never talks to me about it. But this morning as I once again tried to bring it up, I was shut down. I came at him in a calm, collected manner. I was not accusatory, I was not mean, I was not doing anything wrong. My voice was very low, and my words to the point.

Immediately I was accused of trying to ruin the relationship and also, that I was mean and telling him to reevaluate his life. I was not doing this. This was not the intention of the conversation, however, he quickly flipped it onto me, now describing all the things I do wrong.

Diversion.

Maybe I struck a nerve. I don't know. I wish I knew. I wish he would be open to me.

This makes me fear our relationship is doomed. How can two people continue to love each other without communication?

I've never once truly felt like he wanted to be with me. I think our relationship came more from convenience, or maybe pity. I don't know, I'm probably wrong, but how would I know? It's not like he's ever looked at me and said, "I want to be with you forever."

Maybe I'm being cynical. Maybe I'm the one projecting. Maybe I have prejudice and predispositions. Maybe I'm wrong.

Then why do I feel a constant nag? Something telling me to question this. Something saying, "are you sure about this?"

I am sure that I want to be with Michael for the rest of my life, but only if he wants that as well. I have no intentions of living my life half loved. I’ve been doing that for too long.

So I'm at a loss today. I don't know what to do, say, think or feel. I have a tight ball of anxiety sitting inside my chest, and no matter what I do, it remains. Breathing exercises isn't helping. Mindfulness isn't helping. Typing it out isn't helping.

I'll go home, alone, and sit with Mr. Bubbles, light my candle, and try to focus on the vigil. Perhaps thinking of others will do me some good.

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