Seeking The Path Between The Landfill and The Construction Zone: Part Three

March 4, 2013 by L.A. Walsh  
Published in Beauty

Chapter Three.

In times of tension, the walls surrounding the construction zone and landfill thicken and the path is made impassable by razor sharp rocks. The desire to move becomes immeasurable and nothing can be heard. Thoughts of starting a new pattern and working through anger enter the mind, but they are fleeting. In times of tension, the separation that these barriers provide is comforting. Thoughts of staying put and erasing love from the heart and her from your mind enter in, but they are not as fleeting. In fact, they sound logical and your heart must go into overdrive to keep you from giving in.

As I sit on the floor of my landfill, eyes red and blurry, throat so scratchy it hurts to breathe, I wonder if my old life is outside waiting for me or if it disappeared when I disappeared from it. I replay memories of days before she entered my life and realize, from this distance, that perhaps life wasn’t as bad as I had thought it was. Circumstances were unkind, but they had footing and all who mattered knew of their existence. People judged me, but at least their judgment was based on fact and not on a theory which, in hindsight, hurt a lot less. I could complain to others about this or that and didn’t need to pretend that all was well. When all this began, I jumped at the chance for a fresh start and a partner who would ease my stress, not add another layer to it. Feeling the coldness of the floor beneath me, I wish I had left well enough alone, but know that even if my old life were outside waiting, I could never re-enter it knowing she was just a construction zone away.

At this realization, I feel my heart slow and my mind droop in defeat.

“You could’ve gotten out this time.” I hear my mind say.

“Yes, but how far would she have gotten before she would’ve turned around?” I hear my heart reply.

Knowing that this is just the beginning of a nightlong exchange, I rise to my feet, begin climbing my walls and leave them to their war. When I reach the top of the landfill, I can still hear them bickering, but, by the time I slide down to the bottom exterior of the fill, all I can hear is the wind and the faint sound of jackhammering interspersed with crying. I wipe my eyes and embark upon the path.

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