Rupture.

I was silent, busy, content. No turmoil meant that I puttered about taking care of Peanut, feathering my nest and settling in. The calmness that came before the storm, I suppose. We have come back to the insecurity of a relationship built on wishes. He wanted to escape and everything I thought I knew came crashing down. But it was one time too many, because when he bounced back and decided things were okay again, I didn't. I haven't. It was a few months ago. And I haven't been able to find anything to save since then. Maybe we've just changed. I don't feel love here. And I feel blank.

I'm not breaking down. I'm not weeping uncontrollably. I'm not begging him to reconsider. I'm just watching and listening and making plans. It's all spun a little too far out of control. The thoughts that were brought on keep making web upon web until an entirely new home has been created in mid-air. What if this was over? What if I had to make a new home, a new life with Peanut? What would that look like? They haunt me. They tempt and delight me. These thoughts of starting new, of someday finding a love that went both ways. I have stayed and searched for anything worth holding on to. I did it for Peanut. I did it for us. But the chasm of empty feelings and loaded words has driven us to opposite sides. He's going to play the part of The Good Man. I'm left with the part of Destroyer of Families. It doesn't matter who wrote it. The only thing that matters anymore is to find a happy little piece of world to thrive in. Love, smiles, laughter-maybe not all the time, but at least when it got bad I could rest assured that it began in love.

Maybe it's time to let go of my castle of sand. When I opened my eyes I saw it was crumbling. I just don't know how to get out. It's a big, beautiful, scary world out there if I could wipe the last grains from my eyes and see it.