"I was there.lonely" - A Story of Indifference

A Story of Indifference 

"Love cannot endure indifference. It needs to be wanted." - Henry Ward Beecher

Fear is a paralyzing agent. Like heroin rushing through a needle straight into the vein, it literally can stop you from moving.  Being secure in love, the prospect of losing it doesn’t really become consuming.  It also doesn’t seem like losing love with one person means losing it forever; it just means out with this love, in with this new, better love.  Yet for some reason, he sucked me in, handcuffed me and left the room. But he didn't close the door, he left it slightly ajar so I could enjoy a glimpse of what could be, but handcuffed me far enough away that I'd have to chew off my own arm to get to it. I considered it, a few times. But each time, as I began to consider chewing apart a piece of myself, he would do something or say something to remind me that he didn't have much use for a one armed woman. It was a sick game of cat and mouse. It was also a lonely game because even when my good sense returned and I could see that he was using me to cure his own loneliness whenever it overcame him and he never ever intended to open the door fully, uncuff me or let me in, I was still stuck, handcuffed in the room, alone. Don't get me wrong, he visited the room often. He would even handcuff himself sometimes just to prove that his intentions were pure, he too was trapped right? It sounded good, but it was an illusion. Whenever he wanted to try out another, he would throw a fit, tell me that I wasn't being a good prisoner of love and he just couldn't give me what I wanted. He would even go as far as telling me he wasn't good enough for me. Then just like that, his handcuffs were off and out the room he would go, leaving me alone, still handcuffed. Loneliness can drive a sane person mad. Being alone in that room drove me insane.  He pretended not to notice, but he would peek into the room from time to time to see if I was still there. And I was. there. lonely.

I always cared for him. And at some point that care turned to love. I was so busy consumed with other things happening that I didn't notice I was in this room. I loved him, so I felt honored to be his prisoner. He kept me in the room, why would he do this if he didn't care right? Never mind the fact that he never stayed in the room with me. He always came back to me and he didn't have to, right? So what if I cried myself to sleep all week waiting for him to come back, he always returned on Sundays. And it didn't matter that I couldn't see the entire picture outside the room; he convinced me that there wasn't anything happening out there, so why did I need to see it, right? He told me he loved me too. So much so that he didn't want to release me to the world. He even told me that my driven nature would lead me to escape so there was no need for him to release me. Yet year after year, my driven mind (by now driven insane) couldn't get out this maze. Either he gave me too much credit or this was one hell of a maze (probably a bit of both). And he cared so much he would come back and check on me and stay for a little while. Then he would leave. And I would still be. there. lonely.

One time, when the door was a little more open than usual, a man saw me handcuffed. And he came inside and talked to me. And began to explain to me just how great the world was outside this room. This man touched me gently, spoke to me lovingly, and showed me snippets of what life could be like outside the room. But he kept peeking into the room, waiting for a moment to enter. Prince Charming said one too many things I didn't like. And just like that, before I knew it, he wasn't this, he wasn't that. And right when I looked to the door, I saw him peeking in, he still cared, right? Bye bye PC, open arms for him. Too bad he never ran to them. He stayed in the room long enough to make sure my cuff was nice and tight. And just like that, he was gone. And I was still. there. lonely.

They say there is a thin line between love and hate. For as much as I loved him, a piece of that love would die every time he would leave.  More of it would die when he insulted my intelligence, more when he would play on my insecurities, more when he would lie to me.  Each time he rejected my affection, my body and my love - parts of it all would die.  The love was being chipped away every day I was left in that room, alone. And nothing was replacing it. Hate didn't creep in to fill in love's space. Nothing filled it. For every drop of love that dripped out my soul, absolutely nothing replaced it.  Until one day I looked around the room and realized I no longer felt anything.  I don’t think he considered the possibility of indifference nor do I think he ever realized that indifference is the opposite of love.  He still checked in to see if I was there.  And I was still. there. lonely.  Only now… indifferent….. 

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