A5 ~ Emotional conflict

The assignment this week is to write a 1k word short with emotional conflict.


Three long, heart wrenching months. That’s what it was and I couldn’t decide what I should do when he waltzed back into my life almost effortlessly. In those months, I was an emotional mess. I sent emails that all went unanswered. I told myself it was just what everyone suggested it was ~ a fantasy. I’d found the love of my life and he’d disappeared in the middle of our incredible romance. Without one word in ninety days, it had to be a fantasy, right? I reminded myself there had to be a very good explanation for his absence, that he loved me and would be back, but as the days and hours dragged on, all the hope I’d carried around slowly began to fade. It didn’t help either when friends and family gave their two cents on the situation, as if they truly knew what we were all about to begin with. They fed my fears and insecurities, and probably knew it, hell some people I knew very well were proud of the job they were doing on my mind. Everyone’s perception of the situation mattered more than my own, more than my beliefs, more than what my own heart told me.

I hit bottom. The countless days of crying over the loss of him, of watching all my dreams of a wonderful future fade was almost too much to bear. My life was passing me by. I got nowhere by wallowing in self-pity, in my heartache, in all that I believed had been ripped away from my very hands. Finally, I realized I had a choice. Keep going downhill, further into depression, or get back up and put the pieces of my life back together. I am not the type of person to quit. I get to the breaking point, tell myself I give up, but something always happens to make me rethink and move forward. Call it divine intervention, a sign from God, a gentle nudge from those I’ve lost, the labels don’t matter, but paying attention to them would lead me back, back to the truth, back to what I knew in my heart, and where I truly belonged.

I wouldn’t say that I became happy with my life, but I did start to make improvements and living again. I made changes that kept my mind busy, kept me physically active so that I wasn’t dwelling on what might have been. By the end of the day the physical exhaustion let me begin sleeping through the night and quieted my mind. My usual pattern of racing all night long, which made it difficult to get any restful sleep, suddenly began to dissipate. I threw myself into writing, went back to college, rearranged the house, and cleared the clutter in an attempt to improve my situation and it made a difference. I won’t lie and say it stopped all my thoughts of him, but it was just enough to keep me going, to keep one foot moving in front of the other.

One night I was sitting on the computer, going from site to site, and his name appeared on the screen, making my heart stop while instant tears sprang to my eyes. Stunned couldn’t even describe the range of emotions that flew through me at breakneck speeds. I sat staring at his name for five solid minutes, as if it were a dream, as if it weren’t real, as if my own eyes were deceiving me. Finally, I messaged someone else to find out if he were truly back and they told to meet him online, that he had come looking for me. Anger took hold and flooded through my veins. After all, I had a right to be angry. Along with the anger came constant questions, I could barely think or breathe as I toyed with the decision to talk to him, or run away. If I ran, I would never know the truth, I would never know if his feelings for me were genuine, why he left, or if he were alright. Beyond anything else, I needed to know that he was well, his health was that important to me.

The conversation was brief as I choked back tears the very second he said hello. It still seemed surreal as we made pleasantries, my heart ached so deeply and I knew immediately that no matter what his reasons were, what had happened, I loved him still. Would that be enough? Could we somehow find our way back to one another? Did he really come back for me? We made plans to talk the following day. I needed to get myself together, to make sure my emotions were in check. I couldn’t sleep that night. Every fear I’d had hit me, every question as to where he had been, what he had been doing, why he left, did he love me, ran on a loop in my mind. The only person who could make it all stop was him, and if I really wanted to get the answers I sought, I would have to push aside my anger and give him a chance to do so. I knew it, I had told myself repeatedly to give him the opportunity to tell me all I needed to know, what he needed to say, yet that is not how the conversation went.

Instead, fury reared its ugly head and I went on the attack. It was as if I were in a tug of war between my heart, and my head. I was unable to stop the things that were coming out of my mouth as I unleashed three months of silence and confusion at him, my words like needles jabbing into his body, getting in every jibe no matter what he said. He was stunned, for I had never spoken to him that way, ever. I expected it would make me feel better getting it all out, but instead, I felt terrible and I hated myself for the way I handled the situation. If I loved him, how I could I speak to him in that manner? My head began to spin, I was on emotional overload, yet I couldn’t move, could not tear myself away from that computer or him.

I do not know how he felt about my rant, though he did say he was taken aback by the anger he felt directed solely upon him. That wounded me, knowing that I was hurting him, especially when I had told myself to give him a chance to explain. We took a break and he said he’d be back in a little bit. There was a part of me that didn’t believe him, thought that he would just disappear quietly again. Why would he come back and put up with more of my antics? I did the only thing I could do, I pulled myself together, let my heart lead the way and waiting for his return, knowing I could very well be putting my heart on the line once again.

WC:1176