My Stupid Mouth.
A phone call, that’s how it always starts with her. I called
her to apologize for the things I said earlier tonight. “You don’t care about
me! You only care about everyone else! You’ve never loved me!” Et cetera, et cetera.
Sometimes
life seems easier when you’re alone; when you have no one to worry about but
yourself. Yeah, that’d be the life, waking up and just sitting on the couch
with cold pizza in one hand, a beer on the coffee table and the TV remote in
the other hand. No rules, no curfews, I could see any woman I want. Bu, I want
her…
Damn
it. Why does this always happen? Every time I try to envision my life without
her I’m always miserable. She’s infected me. I can’t even think about living
without her. Without falling asleep to the steady rhythm of her breathing,
without her filling our house with the smell of spices when she cooks, without
that little snort in her laugh when she laughs too hard. I would miss her. I
would.
Son of
a… I’m going to end up pleading into the phone to ask her to come back I just
know it. She’s never pleaded for me. Ugh. Why is this so hard for me? I can’t
live without her, but I can’t ask her to come back. It’s like my life is some
kind of morbid carnival ride and I can’t get off. It’s making me dizzy and I
want to throw up but it’s just too much fun to just get off.
Now she’s
yelling back. I want to quiet down. I’ve been screaming since she picked up the
phone but if I stop I’ll lose her attention. I know it. What am I going to do?
How am I supposed to tell her I love her still? Even through all of our fights
I love her. Damn it. I’ll just have to go for broke.
“Stop.
Let me just take a second. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. And… I love you.”
