Watch Me Disappear

by Janelle Brown

Maybe this is why they say love is blind: Who you want people to be makes you blind to who they really are.

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story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses

that moment of experience from which to look back or from w...

He wonders now if marriage is about balancing on that fragile intersection between the said and the unsaid, sharing just enough to satisfy the need for intimacy without crossing over into dangerous territory. Shoving everything else under the rug, hoping it doesn’t accrue high enough to trip you up.

But the past piles up, it builds a ladder to where you are now; without it, how would you get anywhere? Without it, who would you be? Can you really start new and leave your past behind?

All people are unknowable, no matter how close you may think you are. Of the millions of thoughts we all think every day, of the millions of experiences we have, how many do we allow other people to know about? A handful? And no one willingly shares their worst, do they?

You believe what you think you believe, until suddenly, you realize that you don’t anymore. Or maybe you do believe, but it’s no longer convenient to do so, so you decide to forget. You decide to find other beliefs, ones that more comfortably fit the constantly evolving puzzle of your life.

It didn’t seem fair: that you could have love, and then that love could fizzle, curdle, ossify into something less wonderful than what it once was. And then you were stuck, because ultimately, love is a kind of trap. Once you find it, you can’t deviate from that commitment without everyone getting hurt. You can’t just leave. Instead, need wins out over freedom; and everyone stands around feeling wounded and bitter, letting inertia take over.