Skip to main content

Sunny Diaries - D8: The twisted sense of joy in rage

A week has passed. We should have been there by now. My Mioseon cradles herself to sleep in a hobbit hole here in Glencoe where we just had a challenging night of barbs and quips and japes and threats. I would have left were I not pushed back by the cold and barren night, as well as the hole left in my bank account. Fort William is only a day away and still we remain here struggling to find our refuge from this battle of wits and drizzles.

A week ago, right before we took the walk, we had a similar situation at the bus station. I was already inside a bus heading to Milngavie ready to leave when she came at the last minute to sit beside me and reconcile. In hindsight, these battles of ours are seemingly petty and brought about only by my own selfish reasons. She had little to do with these actions, although there are concerns of her unwillingness to learn from these mistakes.

We rushed forth knowing that the walk would be arduous and challenging, and not until the past couple of days where rain was a common occurrence that we find ourselves at the mercy of each other's company. She had been a worthy company, resilient and confident, albeit somewhat spoiled and posh, and I was, for the first time in my life, the main working man of the group. I became pushy and bossy, and when my commands go unheeded, I snap, thinning the thread that binds our love together. Just because of that we break a shard in our hearts even though we are madly crazy about each other.

I can see the lovely view from our hobbit hole here in Glencoe such a marvelous view of the famed munro, the like of which my jaw breaks in awe. Somehow this obstacles of ours as a couple are made better by the surrounding wonders of the locale, and through it we find joy being enraged.

Popular posts from this blog

Unprayer

Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.

Me: Things that have happened to other people are happening in mine, the worst truly has come and not a moment too soon

My important wishes always happen to fall on deaf ears, and now something really, really bad (that has already happened before) is happening to me again. Beneath all the charade of misleading coulrotic bliss is a sad sap of a man merely wanting a bit of trust from everyone around him. Yesterday's news was Mioseon all over again, and it has drained me of all strength. The worst really has come, and heaven knows I'm miserable now.
So it goes without saying that the biggest tragedy I have ever undergone in my life is fighting for the life of my child whose face I will never see. The most perplexing event was having to beg over and over unknowingly oblivious to the fact that my words carry no weight at all. Mioseon had trapped me into a corner and made me complicit to a sin I tried very hard to disavow. Regardless, she had found a way, and judging from that experience, Miriam herself will submit me to the same torture all over again, guilty by association.
For some reason this wa…

Me: At ease, the worst of the worst has yet to come

The wind was cold today, a Sunday, a proper start to September. We are within these months again. The road to the end of a very short year. A year for me where very little was accomplished. At the very least, compared to the previous one, this was a surprise blessing. Not without its challenges. Not without its pains.
Miriam went to work an hour ago. We left each other at Starbucks after a mild break. I was trying to help her with the buses. She never seems to catch on with the intricacies of the public transportation. I let her know that the easiest (not necessarily the fastest) way to work is to take the 260 bus from across the street in our new place in East Acton and stop at the underground station in Shepherds Bush. From there, she can then take bus 94 going to Piccadilly Circus where she can easily walk to her workplace in Soho in about five minutes or so.
She begged me to join her. I was still groggy and asleep at two in the afternoon. That seems to be our common waking up pat…