• Jonsie J

Daisy: A Short Endoscopy of Love

Its 5:48AM and she's crying again. All I can help but do is lay here thinking--"If only she knew all that I've been through, she'd know whatever inconvenience she's facing isn't worth her tears...or the nanny getting up to tend to her for that matter"--as i place the pillow over my head to ease myself to sleep.

7:30AM the alarm goes off. I turn over to find myself in bed alone, I wonder where Tom is--well was last night. Ha! I already know where he was...with her again. Well truthfully at this point I should be saying with "them" as I've lost count as to how many there are these days.

Days are nothing but a big blur of false energy and enthusiasm. 3:00PM Jordan arrives for tea, we gab and gossip about the upcoming events, polo, swimming, boat parties and various other social extravaganzas. Only to find ourselves tuckered out from jaw movement around 5:30PM, at which time we are joined by Nick and Tom...finally, and dinner is served.

All dinners taste the same these days...they even feel the same. Oh the tension of my failing marriage and his absolute and aggressive demeanor controlling every breath of the conversation...including the ones we hold. I'd never leave...because any life I attempt to have after him he'd ruin faster than the one I have with him.

And then Nick looks up into the moon, and with his adorable boyish charisma says..."what about love?" I let this question sink into me as I look out over the terrace, oh how all days are a blur.

My performance begins here.

What about love? Love to me is but a myth cast upon girls like stones in a veil of warm and fuzzy promises. Promises that never seem to come true but the illusion of them all keeps us coming back for more. Did I love him once? Yes but that love existed before the first stone of reality struck me in my face.This myth that keeps us following love at its heels is but a vessel for control, men are love is able to control our each and every movement and keep us bound to them as they run free and frolic with whatever bitch is in town. Control. Sorry I may have misspoke or given the wrong impression, my use of the word bitch is not meant to only imply women...hmmm...let's try this again. Men are love is able to control our each and every moment and keep us bound to them as they run free and frolic with whatever muse is in town. It's not always women, its his colleagues, the underground bars/clubs, polo...anything that gives him freedom. Freedom from me and our home... I cant say I'm much better when it comes to seeking freedom, he gave me a daughter, and I gave her a nanny to escape from the inevitability of poisoning her with reality. I want her to dream, even if its without me. Control.

I lost myself in love

Lost myself in saying yes to you

Obliging every whim, and instance of treachery

So much so that the mirror can't even recognize me

Do I love you too much?

Do I love you enough?

Am I enough?

As I say yes again, through my silence

A tender kiss on the forehead wipes it all away

For a moment, I am enough

But for who?

Can it be, that all this time it was you

You who wasn't enough?

You who didn't love me enough?

It couldn't not in this world

This world blames me, therefore I must change

Adapt in this lostness

Forever lost in the shell of love

For love doesn't exist here

Only survival

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