neurosity XII

By Jax NTP
i was going to kill my heroine

but changed my mind ― you cannot find peace by avoiding life. everyone must wrestle alone in the dark ― this is what we do. this is what people do. they stay alive for each other.

he’s a business man of some sort, a failed novelist, lacking voice, now only writes obituaries for the town’s newspaper. he met her on the freezing beach in Montauk, many many februaries ago. when she asked him for the last piece of bread, then ate it right out of his hand before he could even answer ― an act so intimate as if they were already lovers.

and years after they married, she still likes to buy her own flowers ― to throw her own parties (a mask of confidence), but he knows: she’s always throwing parties to cover up the silence. to this day, she harbors the same thought as she did while growing up: the thought that if she allowed the silence to persist for too long, somehow she would disappear.

now, she hates it when he gives her that look. a look that says hosting parties is so trivial ― that she is trivial. yet in her triviality, he’s addicted to her pain. she is lovable, thus, completely un-leave-able, he finds comfort in her misery ― such comfort that it causes him to stray away from her truth: the fact that she wrestles alone in the dark, living, living only to satisfy, only to satisfy him.