We are each, if our psyches are to be believed, biding our time until we can replace/be replaced.
Tossed away like so much rubbish throughout his life, he has no cause to believe in my love, my strength, my tenacity and determination. He doubts my endurance, even as he seeks to wear me down to hasten his inevitable casting-away, so as not to prolong the pain, the waiting. So much better if I simply throw him out now, is his twisted logic.
Unseen and unwanted throughout my life, walked past, overlooked, I have difficulty believing in or understanding his love. I cannot trust it, trusting love having rendered more harm than happiness, brought me bankruptcy, loneliness, and sorrow.
Such a slippery and difficult to define creature, love. When I am sorrowful and cynical (which, let's face it, is most of the time) I do not believe that anyone can live me, and I wonder what keeps him here, why he doesn't leave me for one of the women who would suit him better. I think he goes through much the same process.
We do not trust ourselves, nor much love ourselves...how can we believe that others can?
And yet...I know I love him. I don't want a life without him. I trust him. Not blindly, as I have given others in the past, but knowing he will be himself only, not some ideal of self that he or I has imposed upon him. Eyes wide open, am I more the fool?
It does us no good knowing what we do about ourselves and each other. We tumble around on the wheel, thrilling at the height, clinging to hope and memory at the lowest point, likely both wishing we could find the center and rest there with each other.
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