Better Then Being Alone
Title: Better Then Being Alone
Rating: PG-13 for a reference to sex
Genre: Angst/Drama
Word Count: 362
Summary: Descriptions of an unhappy marriage--not because of abuse or adultry, but because of the problem that comes with knowing someone so well that they've become a complete stranger.
Spinster. Old-maid.
These are the reasons you don’t leave. Because being unhappily together is better then being alone. Because at least someone wants you. Even though all of your love has faded into revolted hate.
You’ve lost count of the years you’ve spent with him. Every day has become the same. Not a comfortable routine, but a devastating rut that you can’t crawl out of. Your conversations of bills and broken faucets make your heart ache. When did your relationship become so horribly disconnected? You only continue the discussion because without it there is silence. And with the silence comes thought, and the thoughts bring regret.
Sex is no longer something you crave, but rather a weekly chore. No words are exchanged, no names murmured into the sweaty air. You lie there, disgusted with him and with yourself, wishing he’d stop touching you. Once it’s finally over, you both shrink over to your sides of the bed and fall into an uneasy sleep, no one completely satisfied.
Arguments are the only occasion that bring about any kind of passion. And even that enthusiasm seems tired and old. The fights about children and in-laws and what to make for dinner have all blended into one another. You yell at him for wasting money on the horses again, when really you’re screaming at him for being so careless with you and letting something that was once so exciting become so sickeningly comfortable.
He gets angry and stalks outside to buy more cigarettes, letting the front door you’d picked out together years ago ricochet off the wall and stand uneasily ajar. You want to scream into the silence he left behind and break everything, but you just fall onto the couch and weep. The house that was once a prison whose walls were suffocating you, is now too big and empty for you to bear.
You wait, as you always do, for him to come home. A part of you wants to shut the door and lock it. A part of you doesn’t want to be lonely. But all of you knows you’ll be lonely no matter which side of the door you are on.