She Loves Me/She Loves Me Not

Did you ever do that thing with the flower where you pick off the petals one at a time and say “she loves me” with one petal and “she loves me not” with the next until all the petals are gone and the one you’re left with is the answer to the question we all want answered? Does the one we want love us in return? I wish that flowers were better indicators of these things because as an adult I find that often not only does the one I want not love me back, she’s not even interested in flowers or growing things. It makes me want to take a flame thrower to the garden. My devastated heart grabs onto little signs of caring from her like a drowning sailor, yet to her those are just friendship. Isn’t that your favorite conversation? “I just want to be friends.” The “I enjoy your company, you’re a wonderful woman, I just can’t be committed right now” conversation. The “I’m sure you’ll find the right person someday when you least expect it. I’m not good enough for you anyway” conversation. Also a favorite. Oh yeah. Good times. Because right now I feel about as unwonderful as a person can feel. I feel ugly, small, and scared, and no matter how much this does or does not have to do with me the angry, bitter, well of hatred that has filled up my heart just keeps pouring out all over my life. Every time I think I’ve come to the bottom of the bucket I find there’s just more and deeper and it’s like poison turning everything around me to broken ruin. I can’t seem to stop being horrible and hateful and there’s nowhere to get away from her because we share the same house. All I want to do is scream at her to get away from me and beat her chest with my fists and at the same time hold onto her for dear life as if somehow in that embrace she might find the spark she’s lost and suddenly say “Oh there you are. I’m sorry I got lost. I remember us now.” It’s like Alcatraz, and there is no escape.

© Sarah Ultis 2011