Sunday, August 5, 2012


He was walking so far away from me. 

I had said something that I maybe shouldn't have, even though I thought I was being helpful. Didn't matter now, we were silent, and he wasn't walking beside me. That's what mattered. 

I felt like shrinking and running away. I wanted him to chase after me. But of course I couldn't. I was stuck there following him around, trying not to be obvious. Angry but very sad, and most of all pleading secretly, not wanting to be alone. He later told me (after we had already gone home, talking about the long day we had) that he was keeping an eye on me too, making sure I hadn't left or gotten lost, trying to think of a way to approach properly.

Inside the church, things finally got "warmer", as he said in his own words. I took silly photos of him, and showed him the ones I took of him while he was walking far ahead from me, leaving me behind. He seemed sorry, in that usual sweet way, looking down at me with half a pout and half a smile, making me feel like I'm someone a bit silly but adorable. Like he pities me because of the torture I cause for myself when I'm left to think on my own, assuming the worst things. And he got to tell me what had made him upset. It wasn't what I thought, but that thing that I said afterwards that "set him off". But it was clear that we were both strategising for the best way to make up the whole time. I'd like to believe it was just as bad for him as it was for me, walking around in the same cold, old, eerie halls of the four hundred year old church, but not together.

We said sorry and explained ourselves, and kind of made up, but inside myself I just didn't feel quite right yet, I didn't feel it was okay. I felt like I had to fix something, because chasing him had scared me. One part of me was saying "space is good, not just for him but for you, too. you have to wait 'till the anger is gone." while another part felt like he didn't really understand that the situation was bad. That he was really enjoying the old, scary statues on his own, completely forgetting I was there, even when I was behind him a handful of steps instead of beside him laughing at whatever witty comments and observations he has, and me making him laugh too. I remember just thinking "Is it always going to be like this? Will I always have to fix things, run after him, make things better?"

Even though I could have just done it myself, just walked towards him, hugged him, or at least held his hand and said sorry. But of course I couldn't, I was angry too. It's just easier to feel like the victim sometimes.

And I kept feeling like the victim even after we'd already started to be normal for a few minutes already. I was a ticking time bomb, waiting for an opportunity to reopen the new scar, just to make sure it's clean inside.

We were walking on the red carpet from the altar to the back of the church, I was feeling low and pessimistic, doubting our strength as a couple a little bit.

took this RIGHT after this whole thing happened :p
"Look. It's like we're doing the opposite of getting married." I said defeatedly.

"Or, that we just got married."

We smiled at each other.
I felt like my heart levitated from its weepy position at the base of my chest.
He was right, in more ways than one.

This was all part of it, and I'm gladly taking the bitter for the sweet, because that's the part that makes it real.

I don't know how he does it, but he keeps missing my expectations, only to give me something I really need.

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