Split Peach

There are times when I am made to feel -- by someone who purports to love me -- as if I am inconsiderate or selfish and unjustly so. I can't properly articulate the sort of frustration and despair this engenders. Persuasive words clog up in my throat. I hear myself giving up. The provocation of the irrational is no longer the irresistible nectar it once was. The argument is like an asthmatic attack. I can't breathe. And the only weapon against it is to wait for it to pass.

How idealistic and belief-rich this girl once was. Eager to convince. To sway an opinion. To illumine. But giving up is sometimes nobler than persisting with the banging of one's head against a wall. To throw in the towel is to submit. And that is as much a part of my nature as is the will to overcome. Apologetic vanquisher. Zealous deserter. I do things that don't always make sense.

It's hard to look forward to the holidays when all of the traditional topnotes are missing.