Millisecond
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- by Adrien-Ethos
- © All rights reserved.
I’ve never had such a hard test in my life. Today at college, I had a Physiological Psychology test that lasted three hours. We had to define terms, answer questions, make an essay; the works. After that I was so mentally exhausted, I was yawning. I even took a nap in a gazebo outside. But that was not the test I was talking about.
I was thinking that it would be a good idea to establish some kind of communication with Ella. Following a friend’s advice (Thanks Mac!), I sent her an email, after erasing it about 14 times. Finally, I could get myself to write something that sounded clear and serious, without being desperate. Basically, I just asked her what might be the next step in this conflict. We have been on this for three months, and I’m getting tired of her ambiguity. If she wanted to work things out, I was willing to attend counseling with her. If, instead, she was thinking about us parting on separate ways, I was willing as well. I just want to know what are we going to do next. I want to know what am I going to tell Amy, for when we have to tell her.
About an hour ago, she replied. Retaking her “I’m confused” position, she explained that she had been seeing this guy (whose name is River, by the way), for about a month. That she hadn’t told me in fear of my reaction. That she was confused because she still loved me, but not like before. That she had a lot of responsibilities. Being a mother so young. College. Ballet. Wife. Stress. Confusion. Her dreams. Her aspirations. Disappointment. Her reply was extensive, and full of words I had already heard from her. For some reason, I sort of expected something like this. Seems she wants the best of two worlds. But it cannot be. Not with me. I’m sorry.
It seems like we can no longer live together, because I will be interfering with her aspirations. Funny, because my aspirations included her, and our Amy; a life together, grow as a family, have new additions, perhaps. I was trying to become a better and more prepared human being, not only for me, but also for them, because I couldn’t talk about me without talking about her, and our daughter; because it was no longer “me”, it was “us”. But I guess I was just a hopeless romantic; a man in love with the idea of a solid family, that now feels it slipping from his hands in a millisecond, like liquid gas that he cannot grasp.
I was thinking that it would be a good idea to establish some kind of communication with Ella. Following a friend’s advice (Thanks Mac!), I sent her an email, after erasing it about 14 times. Finally, I could get myself to write something that sounded clear and serious, without being desperate. Basically, I just asked her what might be the next step in this conflict. We have been on this for three months, and I’m getting tired of her ambiguity. If she wanted to work things out, I was willing to attend counseling with her. If, instead, she was thinking about us parting on separate ways, I was willing as well. I just want to know what are we going to do next. I want to know what am I going to tell Amy, for when we have to tell her.
About an hour ago, she replied. Retaking her “I’m confused” position, she explained that she had been seeing this guy (whose name is River, by the way), for about a month. That she hadn’t told me in fear of my reaction. That she was confused because she still loved me, but not like before. That she had a lot of responsibilities. Being a mother so young. College. Ballet. Wife. Stress. Confusion. Her dreams. Her aspirations. Disappointment. Her reply was extensive, and full of words I had already heard from her. For some reason, I sort of expected something like this. Seems she wants the best of two worlds. But it cannot be. Not with me. I’m sorry.
It seems like we can no longer live together, because I will be interfering with her aspirations. Funny, because my aspirations included her, and our Amy; a life together, grow as a family, have new additions, perhaps. I was trying to become a better and more prepared human being, not only for me, but also for them, because I couldn’t talk about me without talking about her, and our daughter; because it was no longer “me”, it was “us”. But I guess I was just a hopeless romantic; a man in love with the idea of a solid family, that now feels it slipping from his hands in a millisecond, like liquid gas that he cannot grasp.