I think about a lot when we’ve fought — but haven’t made up yet.
And we’re both doing other things, busy, not really talking about it yet. Because you need your time, and the last thing I want to do is overwhelm you or make it even worse.
And you seem fine, like you’ve worked out something important in your head, but I’m not fine — because the last time you talked with me, you were upset. Didn’t want anything to do with me.
And the only thing that’s different now, at least from my perspective, is that time has passed.
Because you haven’t led me through whatever thought process has gone through your head that has allowed you to feel better. And I’m still a mess.
At a time like that, it’s so easy to convince myself that it’s not worth bringing up. You’ve achieved some sort of calm. You feel better now. Why risk that by prodding? By prying? Maybe I don’t feel good… but what do my feelings matter, really, in the grand scheme of things?
Things are back to normal, and that’s what I ultimately want.
And I almost get there… to the point where I can just forget that anything happened at all. That I can forget that you were upset and that only time passed, and I never got a more meaningful update.
Because it’s seductive. It’s safe… to just let the former conflict dissipate into nothingness — into a form of peace.
But then there’s that moment, the one I think a lot about, when I realize I don’t want that kind of peace. And I reach out to you to check in. To let you know that I’m confused by the way you’re acting. That from my perspective nothing has changed.
And as I do, it’s terrifying, because I don’t know if I’m making things worse.
But I do it every time. Because I don’t want a relationship like that — one that can be destroyed simply by asking for a reasonable update, for an explanation of how you arrived at a peace that I desperately want to share.