He's frustrated.
A demand, rife with desperation. Dang it, Paige. Tell me what you want!
You don't know what you want.
You don't even know what you're supposed to want.
You say nothing.
You know what I want. I would at any given moment, if I thought that's what you wanted.
But it isn't, is it?
I understand the desire to claim something as your very own, to have it for yourself entirely.
But nineteen is so young, and life is open-ended. You're still surveying the landscape, laying down the tracks. Trying every flavor. He's ready for a car payment. Ready to have someone special to share morning toast and kiss when he gets home from work. You are running on separately wound clocks, the time discontinuity inflaming the already established distance issue.
I care about you. I don't understand why you won't try. Why you don't even want to give us a chance.
He's so perfect on paper. You know you'd always be taken care of, outwardly.
But you aren't what he needs, and he isn't what you need.
It's bigger than temporary impulses. Bigger than these slices you two carve out of reality and pocket, pretending to create your own truth where everything's simple.
It has always been this way.
It will never change.
You wish it could work long-term, but you know it wouldn't.
How can you say that? You don't know that Paige. Nobody knows that.
Words, where are they? The right ones?
How does one draw their heart?
You mutter, etch a maze crossing over itself until it's indiscernible.
He stares at the scribbles hung in the air.
A silence reeling with thoughts.
You wait, staring up at the dotted night sky.
All you can see in your head are two toy trains set in different directions, cabooses strapped together with a rubber band.
Wheels whirling in place. A tug-of-war.
How do you reconcile two people when neither is willing to yield?
The band will give, stretch its tendons, but always snaps them back together.
How long until it grows worn, overextends, and breaks?
We're at really different places in our lives.
That's all there is to it.
And there it is, a flare in his eye.
Cold flushes through to your toes as you realize he's going to sever the band.
What did you expect? You can't slam the door and expect him to wait on the step.
And even though its future is barren-- this connection between you-- it isn't empty.
It's messy and erratic and brings out your flighty side.
You'd be losing something that, despite being detrimental, is very much real.
So you're left pleading.
Don't cut me out. Please don't cut me out.
He shakes his head.
You live in your own world, you know that? It makes it hard for the rest of us, your doing what you want, when you want, all the time. Life just doesn't work like you think it does.
Well, it has always worked like this for me.
A short, incredulous laugh.
You're so difficult.
He exhales loudly, exasperated, exhausted.
What sort of monster are you, to torment him so selfishly?
I can't have you, but I can't walk away. Where does that leave us?
If only you knew.
Reality?
He sighs and kisses your forehead.
Well whenever you want a break from there, know I do too.
