I’m a blogger. He’s a writer.
He was my weakness.
I was his muse.
Once upon a time my marriage was built on love...
Until it wasn’t.
Where had we gone wrong?
I had given up hope…
But then he messaged me,
And his words intoxicated me.
Made me believe in love again.
Made me believe in truth.
My imperfect truth…
I don’t remember the last time I could truly say I loved my husband. To be completely frank, I believe it was before we even got married. You can hate me for this, but until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes you will never really know why I’ve done the things I’ve done.
Often I stare at him from across the room and repulsion courses through my veins, a feeling of dread, that this is what my life has become. I wonder why I can't just leave him. Why I can't find the strength to love myself enough and simply be happy.
Was my life pleasant before I met him? Was I content? What’s missing now? I’m pretty sure I’ve never truly been happy. I’ve always struggled to find where I belong, but how can I belong somewhere when I don’t fit anywhere?
Sometimes I find myself picking a fight with him just so he will talk to me. All I want is a little attention from him. Good or bad.
But living in the land of indifference has changed me. I reside here day and night until the moment I snap from his indifference. Then I lash out, rebel against what has become this norm. Although it’s not right, the reprieve from the emptiness when we argue is welcome.
If I left, would he follow me?
Would he fight?
Would he even notice?
Copyright © 2015 by Ava Harrison
Ava Harrison is a New Yorker, born and bred. When she’s not journaling her life, you can find her window shopping, cooking dinner for her family, or curled up on her couch reading a book.