Egg shells
The last two years have been hell. Egg shells and explosions.
“Why do you look at me like that? Can’t you be happy? – You’re always frowning.”
I wasn’t frowning, I was shell shocked. Tripped, assaulted, broken. Every moment with him my thoughts were poised, wondering what would set him off, trying to anticipate and redirect. I performed identity contortions based upon his breath, his stance, his gaze. I became so intensely aware of the energy and power he emanated and tried to reduce my own accordingly.
Tightening coils wound tighter and tighter until I felt suffocated. I felt destroyed by his kind of love. His kind of care. His kind of…
