I've been struck by the stillness of my mother's neighborhood lately. I step out to feel the cold, at night, and the streets are empty. Black pavement lit by a dim ochre. The cold is stiff, fresh even. Dry. I expect to hear the hum of a motor coming but there is nothing except an off and on bark from a distant dog. I'm not quite sure why I find this unsettling right now. Silence can be soothing; a welcome departure from the everyday hum of busy commutes but I find the silence heavy. I wonder after all this time if I have grown accustomed to the noise of life that it's as if someone has turned the television off. I realize that I had it on just to listen to the noise in the first place.
I wonder if that's what relationships are in the end. Conversations reduced to background noise evolving into static. Fuzzy grey particles bouncing between black and white boundaries; A black and white Jackson Pollock painting full of splatters and anger under the microscope.
A. and I watched Annie Hall a week before I realized that I was being excessively naive. What we had was certainly a "dead shark" on our hands and I kept wondering about the merit of fidelity - maybe it was unnecessary. It was the 21st century after all. Is there really such a thing as monogamy? There's an inundation of images of other people on an hourly basis, how could I or anyone else, as my previous ex-boyfriend explained "pick one and deny the other 7 billion?"
I was a romantic then. Romantics think they have the ability to change minds, change people. That the world is still yet to be molded but I know better now. With 7 billion, what is the point? We've reached a point where change is no longer necessary so long as we are "found." As is. Take it or leave it. All of us checklists of "yes" and "no". Should I forgive the infidelity? Could I?
My world has been slowing down. I thought for a minute I might have "settled down". But eventually that turned into the sensation of being trapped in a corner. Mostly a good amount of "no" on his checklist. Here I was, a punished woman for a crooked past. A sensation of being buried under my own honesty and admission. The backlash of being such an open book. Fuzzy grey particles exploding between the crash of black and white lines.
I have to admit I don't feel as lost as I should or have in the past. Mostly I feel as though I am not ready yet to fully give myself to another person and perhaps that is ultimately the subconscious thought that keeps sinking each ship. But when will I be?
More importantly, when will I find someone who understands that this may, in the end, be never?