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My Second Thought Of You...

This time, I'm at the park where I popped the question that one fourth of July. I'm hidden beneath a tree near the lake. Its shadows provide sweet relief from the sun's scorching rays. Any light that pierces through the leaves gently kisses my skin. In my hands I hold a tray of fresh fruit that I bought at a kiosk near the park entrance, but without the pineapple, because I know how much you despise it. Only you would loathe a delicious fruit. I'm overlooking the lake and the lake is just as flawless as it was then. Then I realized: "why am I here?" Or rather: "why am I specifically at this park? There are several other parks between here and home." It can't be the lake; its pristine beauty isn't enough to merit a visit to the park on my own. Or is it perhaps because this park houses an important memory to both you and I? Regardless, I reinvision the proposal...

<i>I had you blindfolded when the show had just begun. I then took your hand and led you to the end of the pier overlooking the lake. Of course, it was dark, so I had to be careful, and you trusted me that I'd keep you safe. The lights in the sky and the water's reflection guided me to the end without fear of falling off. At the pier's end, I kneeled and my heart began to race.
"Now, remove the blindfold."
"What are you doing...oh, my God, please don't tell me you're...!"
"Miranda, you really put things in perspective for me when we fought a while back. I know that I made some mistakes and I've crossed the line several times. After thinking for quite some time, I realized that you are the one just for me, just as you know that I'm the one just for you. Miranda, I love you so much, and know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you by side. Miranda, will you marry me?"
There is a long pause, and the silence is palpable. The booms and bursts of light shatter the darkness and silence. My heart's racing, I'm out of breath, and you finally speak up, with tears rolling down your cheeks.
"You really hurt me when you offended me. But I endured because I've always loved you from the very beginning, and I wanted to help you change. I'm very happy that you feel the same way, and I also want to spend the rest of my life with you. Yes! Yes, I will marry you! You've made me a very happy lady!"
We exchanged a small kiss, and we embraced each other for the longest time. Finally, we sat at the pier's edge and watched the remainder of the fireworks display, holding hands, and your head softly resting on my shoulder, tears streaming down your cheeks.</i>

When I proposed and you accepted, I honestly believed then and there that we'd be that rare couple that would make it the very end; "'Till death do us part..." would be the promise I made to you in front of what seemed to be five hundred people. But look at us now, possessing a marriage perhaps too marred to repair. We took a path from which we can never turn back from, regardless how we'll choose to deal with. We've broken far too many promises to each other; and I don't think I can keep my "'till death" promise to you any longer. We don't deserve that honor anymore...
It is getting late, and the remains of the packaging are drawing in flies. I stare at the lake's horizon line and see the sun slowly sink to the other side. When I get to the entrance, I take a final mental photo of what the park meant for us, because it will be the last time I'll ever set foot here. With a shiver going down my spine, I begin to make my way home.

<i>“Do you even love me anymore? Are even remotely attracted to me now?...We’ve been together for two years now! Two goddamn years! I can’t do this anymore!...I can’t wait for you any longer....we’ve invested so much into each other; we’ve been through so much!...Do you love me or not?...Is this what you want?....It’s better than nothing...goodbye...for now...” </i>

This lurid dream of mine has been plaguing me for several weeks now and I don't know why. So much has happened since then. Regardless, I can't sleep. I sometimes despise evenings because, somedays, this dream is the only good thing in my day. That dream has become a window that potrays a different life. I always struggle to open it, to crawl inside and stop the fight before it is too late, in hopes of altering the inevitable outcome. As always, it is hard to move, as if I'm underwater, and my shouts and pleas are futily drowned by the arguement found on the other side. Everything that can be seen in that window is a blur, except for two figures. One is sitting in a chair, in tears, and the other is on its knees, trying to comfort the one in the chair. Both unaware of the spectator looking at them. I don't know how the arguement begins; it's always in progress when I reach my house.

<i>"What have you done!?! How could you do this to me? To us? Do you even love me anymore? Are even remotely attracted to me now?”
“Of course I do, and I still am, but—”
"But what? It's not enough for you to have me? My love for you isn't enough?”
“These things take time.”
“Time? Seriously? That’s your argument, your reason? It’s more like a cheap excuse! We’ve been together for two years now! Two goddamn years! I can’t do this anymore! I can’t wait for you any longer. I need to know, right here, right now, that you love me, and that our relationship can be taken to the next level. Otherwise, this is a waste of time, for me and for you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but for us to get there, we need to be in sync with each other!”
“How could you call this, us, a waste of time? We’ve invested so much into each other. Don't you think it bothers me? That it makes me irate not to be able to say what I've always wanted to say, ever since we both started to see each other? We’ve been through so much! I don't want to lose you! This is another snag in the road, we’ll get through this, I promise.”
“No. I'm sorry, but I'm having difficulty believing in you. This isn’t a snag: this is a pit, and it’ll take everything we have for us to climb out of it. Otherwise...I don't even want to think about it right now...Now stop deflecting and answer the question. Do you love me or not?”
“Of course I do, but I can’t say it, not now. I don't want to force myself to do so. If I do, my words will be insignificant and hollow. Our argument will be for nothing! Then everything, from our first little outing at the museum to now, will be based on a lie! Is this what you want? Please, I'm begging you! Be patient with me.”
“It’s better than nothing, and I'm through waiting. If this is how it’s going to play out, then I’m leaving. I'm sorry that it's come to this. It’s best that we take a break and cool our heads for now. I’ll return later for my belongings. Please, take the time to relect and to think about what you've done. Goodbye…for now.”</i>

But now, that reality no longer exists. Our home is an empty shell, possesing a hole that can never be fulfilled. And in the night, that empty shell transforms to a victim that has been raped and ravaged. It is broken, and shows no signs of recovery. The numerous portraits of our friends and family have been removed. I don't want them to see the mess that we've created and the damage we have caused. I can't bear to force a smile in their presence, trying to convince them that everything will be alright. Instead, they are replaced with cheap, tawdry replicas of Rivera, DaVinci, Esher, Dahli, and several others' work. They can't mask the pain that can be felt as a guest enters our home. Even the wedding ring wrapped aroung your slender finger isn't as luminous as it was before. It holds a broken promise. I miss sharing the bed with you. I try to re-imagine my arms wrapping around your warm body and my head nestled softly in your bosom, calmly rising and falling as you breath slowly, gently. Your heart beats loudly in our deathly silence. Your left arm rests comfortably across my back, and your right hand digs through my hair, trying to find its comfort zone. We'd then spend the remainder of the night talking of our past, present, and future found in this earth. But that has become a distant memory and the only thing my body feels now are the cold blankets and the impression of your figure left behind on your side of the matress.