Mad at Myself

   Overwhelmed she pushed out of the cool building into the bright, hot summer afternoon. A day like this with a bright blue sky and not a cloud in the sky should have made her feel wonderful but today only a feeling of frustration filled her soul. She hated arguing with him, hated the way they seemed to always crash into one another when they tried to talk and she was done.
She had to be or she would go insane.

"Would you wait!" a voice floated to her on the windy, hot day and fear washed over her sharply. A glance back to see him rushing after her, a frown on his face and she knew she just did not want to have this conversation.

The emotions were too strong. She felt too much. She needed to drink until she could not feel anymore.

She shook her head and continued onward through the parking lot towards her car.
Once she reached the car she turned to see him right there, anger blazing in his eyes and she stepped back bumping against the car.

"What the hell are you mad for! I swear this is why I run the fuck away from you and your crazy emotions." he raged.

His anger, his love, his frustration buffeted her like a storm and it lashed her soul with its intensity. She wished she could lay her hands on him, heal those open wounds he had on his heart and make him see the true path that they had before them. But he would not take that. He was arrogant, strong and stubborn. He also lacked the vision to see past what he wanted in the moment and she wondered why he stood before her now when he had what he chose, what he wanted other than her.

"I'm mad at myself, not you."
she said in a whisper and she watched him freeze, his eyes widening and the anger slipping off his face.

"I'm mad for always  being nice, always apologizing for things I didn't do, for getting attached, for making you my life, depending on you, wasting my time on you, thinking about you, forgiving you, dreaming of you..."
by the end of the sentence her voice was loud and strong. Un-shed tears in her eyes as she watched him stand there mute with pain on his face.
She shook her head and then took a deep breath, cutting off his words with a raised hand.

"But most of all, for not hating you for which I know I should but I... just....can't."
The last word came out as a soft whisper of pain and the tears streamed down her face.
She had admitted her weakness.
She stood, waiting for the condemnation or for the gentle words she knew he had within her.
Which ones would come?
She had no idea but she needed to have her say, to speak her truth and be free.