Welcome to Musing Interruptus. Thank you for clicking, thank you for listening… I’m going to take you on a little trip. It is not comfortable, it is not sweet, and it does not end well. Let’s do this together. I’ll take your hand while I talk you through it.
Open to a room bouncing with kinetic energy, product of every single object residing there.
A man and woman are talking about declarations of love and anxiety.
The burden of risk is placed on men, and that is not fair. - He said.
You don’t realize how much I risk, just being here. Just entertaining the possibility. If you understood that, you would embrace the burden, as you phrased it. You would understand the true stakes. You would never be ostracized, but I would. She, explained. This is the mindset I grew up with, when it comes to relationships, being vulnerable, making friends, and falling in love.
He interjected, you are not wrong, but I am going to share something with you, and all it makes think is, I had had already learned this in the movies. You can’t imagine what I went through last week. I’m in love with a married woman. It makes me sick to my stomach.
The last thing she told me, is that she felt sick, it’s like the last time. I’m seeing my doctor later. - Great, good luck, hope you feel better. I said to her. Something in the pit of my stomach clenched. Ok, it wasn’t my stomach precisely. That was in the morning, that afternoon, I messaged her, checking in. There was no answer. Hours later, no answer and no indication of anything. It’s not my place to pry, this was going round and round in my head, going against every single fiber in my being. You know where this is going. You can see it approaching and increasing in girth and height. It’s the darkness and discomfort and the fear and skin crawling doubt that the one extreme thought that popped into my mind, explaining her absence, was true.
It will be ok. I said to myself, Practice mindfulness… repeat what you are doing three times at a time. That will definitely make you less crazy. Definitely. This isn’t working. I have to work. I have so much work to do. I start spiraling out and reattach myself to my work. Breathe in and breathe out. Why wouldn’t she be ok? I keep thinking to myself. Time for bed. It’s ok. Sleep comes, but at what cost. I must have smoked, popped pills, and dropped more cbd under my tongue than ever. I couldn’t risk another restless night. Morning came and there was no answer. She’s gone. It must be true. She’s gone. Don’t resist this, just accept whatever life has in store for you today. I can’t message her… her husband might see and see straight through my message… I’m in love with your wife and can’t imagine my life without her. Sorry about that. Yet I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t put her in that position. In my mind, that is also me saying I love her. I start thinking about the funeral. Would I come up to the grieving husband and express my condolences, all the time thinking, you should express yours back to me. I imagined her casket, and how I would finally express the things I carried for her inside. She was gone, in the worst fiction I could imagine and all a product of my anxiety. The murderous bastard. Continue reading

---

Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/musingsinterruptus/message