August 10, 2001
The Walls come Crumbling Down
In my heart I already believe him. But I can't tell him that. Because I can't be taken for granted. Because he has to know that such an act in my eyes is the Ultimate Betrayal.
In my heart I wanted to stop him from walking away today, to keep him from the misery that was sure to be engulfing him, the misery I myself was drowning in. I did not want to share that pain. In my heart I wanted to save him from it.
But I can't.
I realize that not forgiving him, not believing him, is to make the same mistake my parents are making. I have told them the truth my whole life about my dreams and my morals, and they have stopped believing me motivated by their own fear. And I am so afraid that the Indian situation really did happen, that it could happen, that I choose to ignore the truthful past I have with Ryan. Were our relationship different, I could follow standard logic and banish him from my heart. But I cannot pretend I have not curled up in his lap in his car for an hour, crying, listening to the soft, sweet comforts that spill from his mouth. I cannot pretend he does not reach out to me while I cry on the phone to my parents; I cannot pretend he does not wrap his arms around me from behind and kiss my neck and plead silently with me to be strong. I cannot pretend that he has not stared at me speechless, disbelieving, when I dared to utter that I did not believe him.
He would not lie.
But I cannot tell him that I know that. I can't. Not yet. No matter how much I want to.
And I can only pray that he will not let me go so easily, for if he does I will not go back. If he lets me go, I am gone.
I can only pray to the God who has never heard my cries, to plead with the ears that have been turned away from me, that Ryan does what I ask of him.
That he do something.
astera at stormy