I was angry with my wife the first time she left. My former wife. My scourge. I was irate the second time, but found my anger cede into numbness, nothingness, nonexistence. A curiosity I could not explain; I realized that I was quite possibly alone in my being impervious to day to day interactions, week to week, year to year. I watched my wife's relationship with her mother deteriorate before my eyes... well, in hearsay, I watched virtually nothing of it, but did witness my wife's emotions after each phone call, and nasty e-mail, and meaningless, tacky, though altogether endearing Christmas card. I laughed under my breath, as my wife's demeanor was so easily swayed by whims and extrapolations, so quickly the plies of her resolve split and shattered. My wife wasn't stupid, isn't stupid. Wasn't stupid.
She's not "mine" any longer, though to even characterize as having ever been would be foolish considering the lengths we went to establish ourselves as two pieces of one puzzle - completely equal. I could go into the intricacies of such an arrangement and how curious it was to base the most important of all relationships on relatively modern social acceptances, but that is not a digression I have time for. For the time being, my focus is merely on a human absurdity. In what sense to it ever make for my wife, my mother, or my associate to throw away years of cultivated association over a simple matter, a short matter, an indefinite matter. For years I accepted my wife's transgressions against me as a necessary part of the world we had created. I understood that as much as I might imagine my life and her life should play themselves out differently, it was unnecessary to attempt to control all facets of the world surrounding me. If my wife chose to waste our money on powder and dog races, despite the inconveniences to me, I would understand that even if one aspect of her is short of perfection, it's merely to weigh out with those aspects of her that were perfect. Her hair, her laugh, her intelligence. My scourge. Reminiscence is weakness.
What matter of her, or any other terribly disillusioned being, caused her to leave at the slightest sign of my malevolence? Dare I say my intentions were always much more well conceived, much more though out, much more logical and yes more acceptable. I continue to keep the trophy that ultimately led to my freedom. My marriage was good, my home life as well, but only insofar as I forgot myself for the good of the group, and in doing so not only endangered myself, but the place I had been given within the greater scope of life. Without these mental entrapments I was more complete, though thus far without notice, at least not animate notice.
Requieminem
2 days ago
