When It Happened

I wondered when it happened. At which point did that thought whisper in, in which moment did it grab hold, and what day did it win you over. There had been so many years filled with days that could’ve fostered that resentment in you. So many little comments, little fights- or big ones. But which one was it? I wonder. Sitting in my bed, covers pulled up to my chin, I stared across at the white expanse of wall in front of me. My mind was blank. This was probably it, this was the difference in us. I couldn’t pinpoint that moment. You probably could’ve shown me at least ten that could’ve led us here. It wasn’t that I didn’t take every moment seriously, it wasn’t that I brushed everything off. In the end, for me, they were just moments. Our lives were the sum of all our moments, weren’t they? Not just the ones that hurt, or the ones we weren’t proud of. Also the beautiful moments, those ones that touched us somewhere inside and made us feel whole, the ones we held onto when doubt crept in. I never felt that our moments were tipped the wrong way. Never felt that sum was something, something no longer worth building. We were there, together, in those moments. Mine weren’t different from yours, we didn’t experience some different realities, so it must have come down to feeling. I suppose you felt differently.