fiction

Riptide

I haven’t written anything personal (by personal I mean anything besides work) in a long time. Why am I so lazy to do anything?

I got this though; makes me think things are alright again.

***

I’m exhausted. He’s sleeping in the next room and I can’t leave. I don’t want to. It’s enough for me that he’s there, that he’s just five meters from me, that he’s safe and sleeping soundly.

I’m exhausted. I don’t want this. I don’t want to care as much as this because no matter how hard I try to rationalize it, I still want my love reciprocated. And it doesn’t look that way – at least not anymore. I am just wasting my time and effort in something that I know I already had in passing.

So he’s there now, lying on his side, snoring to his heart’s content. And I think he’s beautiful. And somewhere along my brain shouts back: “You’re mad.”

I know. I know. How do I get out. Please get me out.

***

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