I could explain to him my reasons and have all the right excuses. But my ownership of my mistakes make me realize that I am more than them, so much more. The ego of a man is fragile and on the surface, you could touch it with a bet over the weather. My ego could be the same, though I doubt it. I’m not the one who feels constantly on display. I get it now, I get that we are not happy, that we are madly obsessed and betrayed. But where are we heading to? I don’t want to acquire my previous position, to him I’m that girl who did exactly the expected, the wounded and the savage. But what am I to do if I can’t forget his mistakes, his failing to own them whenever I run back to him? He placed a knife and motioned my hand to this love’s trust and I’m forever lost. So we are now two on the same boat, floating in the debris of this war. I never wanted it to be one. But I’m in love with a soldier, while he is in a martyr. I woke up this morning crying, my heart hurts. Not out of confusion, I know where I am and how we got here. These tears are love and an attempt for patience.
