I'll just live my life in dreams of yesterday

Before each of us lies a labyrinth of paths — we choose which ones to follow, pick up clues left by those who preceded us, weigh their advice against what we feel in our hearts, and decide whether to stay the course or change direction. Our paths crossed long ago, and they appeared destined to meet yet again, so why do I get the unshakable sense that we are on course for a divergence? Which one of us chartered this course? You or I?

Nothing held back is done so intentionally. I speak to you from the center of a black hole, but at this point the omissions happen so automatically that I hardly even notice I do it at all. These conversations come pre-pasteurized, as if fed through a subconscious censor where each sentence is scrubbed, approved, redacted, or dismissed before it even occurs to me to say. He openly cringes from his plastic bucket chair without wheels. Yes?

No? From the plush embrace of brown or burgundy upholstery? From the scratchy linen sanctity of marital sheets (¡escandaloso!)? Maybe from somewhere outside those walls — an unseen environment, new and exciting? Do you take me with you to exotic destinations? Am I your traveling companion?

See! So I do not avoid conflict. I instigate still, but steer it somewhere else, somewhere more befitting battle, like familiar ground. If there be fighting, let it be thus. If there be internal strife, let it be redirected at an external target. An easier mark to hit most of the time. That target within us? It never stops moving. But we do.

Boy, do we ever. Me, I have barely moved two inches in as many weeks. Comfortable as one can be living on caffeine, cannabis, and cat naps while simultaneously feeding strained peas and carrots to an uncooperative paraplegic as I beg the dog to stop barking at the pussy it sees strutting around outside the window. The sudden mental collapse of one, paired with the residential collapse of the other (such exquisite timing), and I would find myself the very picture of the hopelessly frazzled stay at home mom... if not for my full time wage-earning labor Monday through Friday.

Nah, life was not easy before; I still went to bed tired, but I did not wake up that way. So, as I sit and breathe deeply through the thick of each soul-sucking moment, even the messages from you at your most malicious remain the brightest spots of most days. And sometimes I catch a short-term symptom of whatever sickness possesses you, and I wonder the same thing you do — what made this so special in the first place? And today I thought maybe it was because you were the only person who could be amply rough with me, in a way that still left my dignity intact.