timid

i'm not happy
okay

i waited for a response better than what he gave me. was he unsure of how to approach the situation? was he thinking of something better to say? i wanted to say something more, but i didn't know how. not because i'm not good at, or unwilling, to communicate the inner workings of my mind with a lover. in fact, i believe the capacity to be wholly comfortable with sharing such details is an act of intimacy. it was something i very much craved from him.

i glanced over and looked at our alarm clock. i remembered commenting that i didn't want it in our room. i had a hard time sleeping with the digital numerals casting an eerie, red glow. i felt it mocking me, each blink reminding me of the inevitability of time. the fact that it sat so comfortably on our dresser now brought me back to that night. a night that lacked a discussion, let alone an opportunity for compromise. a problem that reached no beginning, middle or end.

i need to wake up for work in time.

he had this thing about him. everything he said was so matter-of-factly, as if anything he wanted was the way things should be. it was something i both loved and feared about him.

it had been twenty minutes since he spoke. did he assume i was no longer bothered? did he forget about it altogether? should i repeat what i said? should i be more clear about what "not happy" means to me?

i buried my face in my pillow. i took deep breaths and tried to convince myself that a situation is only as bad as you make it out to be. i reminded myself that everyone communicates differently, shows love differently, and values things differently. i listed all the pros and intentionally justified all the cons to preserve his honor and sanctity in my mind. i wanted to respect him more than i wanted to love him.

despite letting my mind wander to a neutral zone, i couldn't shake the fluster caused by his acknowledgement of my statement, but his indifference to be a part of a solution.

i waited, waited, and waited for a response. for certain, i am patient. even more certainly, i am stubborn. and so i waited deep into late hours of the night, until i heard faint snoring, affirmation that my benefit of the doubt pended no further warrant.

what hurts more than hearing something you don't want to hear-- or hearing something that exacerbates a situation-- is when you hear nothing at all. silence is evidence that neither is willing to fight: for each other, for the cause, or for the sake of being intimate for only a moment.

i got up and unplugged the alarm clock.
i wouldn't be sleeping well that night, but i'd be sleeping better.