PyritesI have never known anyone as entrancing, as captivating, as my wife. I have every reason to give up on loving her and I can't. She is so lovely and precious to me, I just can't. And it's worth nothing -- is there any harder lesson to learn than what you think should have value has none; that is what I've spent these years learning, that you can't make other people think what you think is worth while is worth anything at all -- but I am destined to burn another lonely, gentle candle, brighter, fiercer and just as poor at illuminating my life and anyone else's.
I feel like I will never have her back because we are living different myths. And I knew who I was but maybe she didn't. I was strong for years, for everyone but myself, and then I was weak and my life fell apart and I have pieces but I always was that man.
I always was that man and I thought she knew it.
And she says she will have me if I become someone else and I am not going to, I know that. Because I never was and I never will be and I don't know how or when she fooled herself, but she must have done, because she does not love me, she loves a mirage. And god they all have but why? Perhaps they see gold but I only have pyrites.
I cannot be someone else because I am not strong any more. I am only strong enough not to be in pieces. That takes everything I have. I am only made of failure and shame and the pretence of an endoskeleton of wire, rusty but still extant.
I feel like I will never have her back because she believes she is strong and I believe I am weak and we are both mostly wrong. Or mostly right. Is spite strong? Is contempt strong?
Sometimes on one of my playlists there comes Hey QT. I don't even know why I put it there. I'm transported to a time that proposed happiness that would last for a lifetime. I can recall believing in her, that she would be my light, my life. And that night we made a child and abandoning that child is killing me. It takes all I have to bear it, to still smile, to make it so no one can feel it. I am just curling into a ball and I don't know how to uncurl.
I had to do this to live and now I'm deader than I ever was.
And I feel how much better to have nothing than this wreck and I know she was right to stop loving me, to reject me, to demand better or nothing at all.
But I do not know how to live with that and the only people who've ever cared about me enough to help me try to find out have died or their love for me has died, and that's the same; you wouldn't know it until it's happened but it's the same.