Miss Thang

Sometimes, during the inbetweens of thoughts, I wonder about you. When I see you've added new pictures on your Facebook page, of you and her and people who are no longer part of my life. Like you. And her, somewhat.

I wonder.

There has always been something about you that has never quite sat right with me. Your intent and your motivation. Towards her in particular. Maybe it is my residual protective instinct surfacing.

Then I realise that you can only be to her what she allows you to be. Same as when she was with me.

And my thoughts then turn inwards to you and me, and what you allow me to be, and vice versa.

And the images of you and her, of a symbiotic pair turns to that of a rock beneath a small waterfall that is constantly beating on the hard stone surface, relentless but not quite brutal.

Is that what I am? Brutally relentless, or relentlessly brutal? Some days I think you see me as the former, and some as the latter. It wavers, I feel.

Some days like recently, I find it is I who is feeling more disconnected from you than sensing your distance from me. And I wonder what that means.

Whether I am really drifting away. Or whether I am becoming numbed to this lack of feeling or opinions from you beyond the occasional grunt.

There are lots of moments when I really, truly feel like kicking you. Physically kicking you just to get a real reaction, one that is substantive. Not just a grunt.

That I haven't already is at least a little solace for myself, that I am not physically violent in nature.

Maybe I am just fed up and tired and need to sort myself out.