The Roughest Draft

by Emily Wibberley

Why is conversation way easier on the page?

It’s like how if you focus on each individual word in a gorgeous passage of writing, they cease to have lyricism or meaning.

I want to break open the rib cage of this conversation and examine the wounded heart underneath.

I’ve heard people compare fights to fire. It’s the wrong metaphor. Flames flourish with space, openness, room to breathe, kindling to feed them. Fights come from the opposite—from pressure, restraint, deprivation. What I need is to open a release valve and vent some of this pressure.

“Forever is about reaching into the future, into years far away and unknowable. ‘Always’ is about every second of every day. It’s as far-reaching as ‘forever,’ it just starts sooner.” His eyes have fixed on mine. “The word is immediate and immortal. And better.”

Some people wear relationships like cozy sweaters. Others wear them like chains, others like armor. Katrina wears hers like a heavy coat, restrictive, even uncomfortable, if protective from the cold outside world. It’s not quite love, even though it’s not quite the lack thereof.

Never leaving someone isn’t the same as loving them.