Untitled

Here it is. The last entry before NaNoWriMo. It starts Tuesday. I'm quite nervous. I'm going to have to write about 1500 words every day in order to make the number of words I need. Wish me luck.

The house of delight leered at me from my spot on the sidewalk. We lived there once. No longer a house of delight, but a shabby monument to a brighter time.

I always swore that I didn’t believe in a higher power, but it took only a taste of sacrifice and suddenly I am praying for hope, relief, another chance, freedom. There has been no answer yet. So I’m here, standing in front of the house and wondering where you are.

Remember when the rooms of this house held us in a warm embrace that seemed to keep the world at bay? Now, the world has invaded our togetherness and we didn’t survive the invasion.

I admit that I saw you. You saw me, too, but I pretended not to notice. I am conflicted. Not sure whether to hold on or to let go. But you. You were laughing and carrying on with friends. I had to swallow a pitcher of bitterness at the knowledge that while I toiled without you, you were happy without me.

I hoped to come here to the now decrepit house (was the paint always peeling? Did the screen door always hang crooked?) and let go. But I am here now and just as conflicted as before.

I want to hold on.

I want to let go.