"Are you listening to me?"

Really I'm not. The doe eyed, zombie look I'm wearing, isn't a facade, and I'm not trying to look cool. I am frankly, sincerly, out of it. It's not that I don't love you anymore, it's that I feel like a wild animal that's been picked off the road and forced to live in some retirement home called: "Villa Placid".

Sometimes, I don't wanna a "we", sometimes I wanna "me". Yesterday you mentioned how sad you were that we weren't going to see each other. A part of me was also dismayed, but the part of me that "jumped for joy and almost cried of happiness" won me over.

What gives?
You are the best man that has come into our lives. You have invested your time and more into us. I am more than fortunate. You do have your flaws, some of which in these days have been magnified, but it isn't your fault. I do it on purpose. I push myself away when something becomes too intense, when I feel my space is being invaded. And frankly it's really not invaded, it's just that after almost 2 years, it's perfectly rational and normal that we become more closer, especially with a long awaited ring on my finger.

Sometimes the thought of two people under one roof, makes me wanna snap.
Yesterday as we had lunch, the guy behind the counter was so happy, so cheerful, so blissful.

"That is the kind of happiness that makes me wanna jump over the counter and kill a few".

You looked at me and remained silent.
You didn't get it.

The other days I was at my grandma's house and my cousin was over. The perfect cousin, the one with the baby and another on the way, with the perfect husband, house and gas sucking SUV. And for the first time I felt a slight ping of envy.

I could probably have it if I wanted it. But did I want it?
I want it, but am I willing to pay the cost of it?
Am I willing to be civil?
Am I willing to give a layoff to the tyrant, dark side of me?

"I don't know yet, but we are gonna make it!"
You too, feel the thickness in the air, you too know the rocky bridge we tread upon, but you are so happy and optimistic, that I stand in delight. Almost in envy, wishing some of that would rub off of me in a way I could still recognize myself in the mirror in the morning.

What have you put away to make something work?