Emogry

A storm blew through my life last week. It uprooted the emotional stability I had always prided myself for and triggered sweeping mood swings for days. In fact, even now I still find myself oscillating between wounded hurt and snarling rage.

A relationship of mine has been irreversibly changed. I was accused of being cold and uncaring, and the person in question threatened to sever ties. I was completely blindsided, having believed that what we had was something indestructible--only to discover that this person had been unhappy ever since we first met.

Nowadays, anger dominates my daily mood.

I am angry that this person had bottled their grievances against me for over a year without ever confronting me directly, instead designing little "tests" to see if I would pass until an accumulation of "failures" convinced them that I was a lost cause.

I am angry that this person, after finally telling me how they truly felt, refused to take any step towards making amends and repairing damages, saying that they didn't want to set themselves up for disappointment and get hurt again.

I am angry that this person, after all this time, expected me to be somebody that I fundamentally am not.

I am angry whenever I recall all the poisonous, harmful barbs that they threw in my direction during that fateful conversation, likely because I didn't react in the way they expected me to--because once again, the reaction they wanted from me was fundamentally at odds with who I am.

And yet, when I wake up each morning, the immediate emotion that strikes me is not anger. It is sadness. Because the truth is, I cared deeply for this person the entire time. And I am hurt that they never saw this, instead letting their doubts fester for over a year. I cried, because after all this time, someone who I thought was close to me really never understood me at all. I cried, because I realize now that we have never seen each other eye-to-eye, and I have my doubts that we ever will.

I have seen my fair share of romantic relationships, despite never becoming entangled in one of my own. Back then, I never quite understood exactly why couples would seem to prematurely call it quits. Countless times, I saw salvageable situations that were left abandoned by one or both parties. Though this isn't the story of a break-up, I now understand. I have been sick and drained of this emotional turmoil; now and then, I find myself thinking about how much easier it would be to just give up and let it all go.

In Daughter of Smoke and Bone, Akiva discovers that he can draw out the source of magic from the pain of his old wound. When I first read it, I saw a metaphor for writing. For me, the ink begins to flow when I am able to draw from my own pain. It is how the story of the water horse first arose, and it is how this blog was first born. The one thing that keeps me pushing forward is knowing that I can turn my pain into art.