Existing is harder on some days more than others. Today starts out like one of those days. But today, it is different. Today, I am different. I have to be.

I start our day off with a fight. Something stupid, no doubt, but try telling me that when I’m being irrational. Okay, so let’s take a break. Never done that before.

The silence from our “break” is disturbed by the furious typing on my keyboard. Then, some crying (of course). More typing. You’re trying to not look at me, and I’m trying to make this normal. For some reason, I think cereal is going to fix the problem. That’s normal, right? The insistent clacking of the keys becomes too much for you, but I don’t notice because I am Not Done crying. Still not thinking. Only feeling. I barely notice when you spend 20 minutes in the kitchen cooking me a grilled cheese. If only I wasn’t so engulfed in my own emotions, maybe I could think about yours. If only I could be the partner you needed.

I call you over and show you the shitshow I’ve vomited and managed to turn into paragraphs, not thinking about how fucking ugly what I am about to show you is. It didn’t matter that it was ugly, it was raw and it was mine. The look on your face as we skim the words together suddenly registers with my brain. Fuck. I still wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking about the grilled cheese, or how long it would take you to read my words. I wasn’t thinking about the smell of burning cheese, I was barely noticing the furrow in your brow.

I gave you the heavy, the hurtful words. Not because you couldn’t handle them, but because I wasn’t thinking about what they would mean to you. Only what they could show me. They showed me hurt, and anger, and sadness. They showed me a medley of torturous suffering, a heart so engrossed in my own pain that I wasn’t even looking for yours. And then, I called it art.

But today, I am different. Today is different. It has to be. Because in the life that I want to be worth living, in that life, art is beautiful. Art is the soft yellow glow of the candles on our coffee table after a long day at Ross. Art is your gentle breath between my lips; Dr. Pepper kisses on a Friday night. In that life–this life, art is a simple vision of you, me, and our 5 pets snuggled closely around a Harry Potter movie.

Maybe some days can start out bad. Maybe some mornings existing can be hard. That’s okay. But today, I chose a different ending. Can’t I choose a different start, too? That’s a blog post for tomorrow.

T-minus 6 days until our vacation starts!!