Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Breakdown

Day Seventy-Three: I fall apart. I fall apart through every orifice, I fall apart at every seam, I collapse so quickly that I find it hard to believe that I've done so; in pieces, in pieces on the floor. This day...this day, this moment was long in coming, and I wish I hadn't seen it from so far away, I wish there hadn't been --

Day Five: I stop and stare. I stop and stare and say "You. You don't like books. Oh." It's the "Oh" that should have been "we're over" that turns into --

Day Eleven: I look at my watch for the seventeenth time and you finally get the hint and tell me where my coat is so I can catch the bus because you've made me miss my train again. Which is significantly better than --

Day Thirteen: I look at my watch for the thirty-fifth time and try to call you for the ninth. You got stuck in traffic or in class or in one of your artistic blue funks, I tell myself for over a week, until --

Day Twenty-Nine: I hold my breath to prove a point and you tickle me until I really can't breathe and we laugh until our sides hurt and I forget that you ever disappointed me. It feels as though you never could, even with --

Day Fourty-Four: I laugh. I laugh even though, once again, it's not funny; once again, it's offensive, it's insulting, it's immature, and it's. not. funny. It's still not funny on --

Day Fourty-Seven: I hold your hand. I hold your hand and your arm and the entire left side of your body, and you're still finding it hard to stand. Your hand still thinks it's subtle, thinks it's smooth, slipping its way into my back pocket, and it doesn't bother me until --

Day Fifty-Two: I tell you for the three hundredth time that I have to leave, to get home, to bake a cake for my sister, but you're comfortable with your head across my knees and you won't let me go, want me all to yourself, which really only starts to frighten me when --

Day Sixty: I kiss my oldest friend on the top of his head and your grip on my hand tightens, your jaw tightens, your voice tightens, and the next thing I know, you're whispering that we should get out of here, that you're uncomfortable, and all I want to say is "you never care when I'm uncomfortable". But I don't say it, and I do drag the evening out, and I tell myself that everything's still going to work out until --

Day Seventy-Two: I swallow my pride. I swallow my pride, I swallow my pride, I swallow my pride. I can't. I can't breathe. I can't breathe or laugh or hold your hand or check the time or find my coat or miss my train or stare or do anything but --

Day Seventy-Three: I fall apart.

I always right these things where I like the concept and am a little "eeehhhhh" about the execution. So. If there're things I could have done better, I want to do them better.

2 comments:

Bernard said...

Hmm. I can see what you were trying to get at here, and it works to an certain extent... I dunno. I like it as it is(except maybe for "I fall apart through every orifice", which just felt like a weird image to me), but I feel that it could be stepped up more on the emotional level, perhaps... it's like the difference between lukewarm and fresh tea. The taste is there, but duller than one would expect..

Andrea said...

I agree with Bernard about "I fall apart through every orifice..." brought to mind images of nostrils and assholes and falling through them...just generally weird in my mind.

As for execution, I really liked it. The first paragraph was a bit melodramatic for my taste, but then you bring it back with all these snapshots. When it came back to the seventy-third day at the end, it made more emotional sense to me. I love how each day is cut off, running into the next one (and how it jumps around the timeline). It really captured the "rollercoaster" feeling...I absolutely LOVE day twenty-nine. I've had that exact feeling so many times. And day fourty-seven.

I also love the title, how you're literally breaking down the stages of the relationship. Overall I just really liked it. Although it feels...tired? Or like a prolonged sigh. Maybe it's because we already know the outcome by the time we arrive at the end. But somehow I feel that is the point.