Tides That Turn

It’s been a year and a half since Jenny and I broke up. I still remember the way her penetrating gaze dug deeply into my eyes, the sadness in her pupils letting me know our time had come. “It’s just not working out, Matthew,” she said, her hands on her hips, her brown eyes glistening underneath the sunlight creeping through the oak tree’s leaves. Though that day was beautiful, it seemed to hold with it a tight, condensed air. Everywhere I went, a knot sat in my stomach, and my nerves pressed themselves against me every chance they had. I remember parking my blue 2003 Mustang in front of the park, underneath a tall, dark brown oak tree, its leaves falling onto my car. And two hours later, I’d be there again—only this time, it would be my tears falling. I’d spent two years of my life with Jenny; to me, there wasn’t a better woman out there. I loved the way she’d tease the things I loved, the way she’d poke fun at my habits and jokes, the way her eyes glittered in the sun whenever we’d stroll along one of the paved paths, the way her heart beat so furiously in my arms, the way I saw my future in her eyes every time I looked into them. I’d give anything to go back, anything to hear her voice whispering her love for me, anything to tell her how much she means to me. Since then, I’ve grown cold. I’ve been a deflated man lacking purpose. When I wake up, I practically have to pry myself out of bed. I feel as if nothing can ever change, like I’m the biggest failure to roam this cold and brutal world of unrequited love, countless failures, and shattered dreams. It’s not just Jenny that ruined me; it’s everything. When we broke up, I moved out of my parents’ house and into an apartment for a change. Luckily, I had saved a lot of money while working at Ford Motor Company over the years and still have some to this day in case anything goes south. I needed to escape the tormenting surroundings and memories. Soon after I moved out, however, I lost my job at Ford. I lacked motivation and had slacked on my work. Not even my union rep could save my job. At first, the solitude calmed me; now, I’d give anything to be around my family and friends. Eventually, however, the clock on my unemployment checks was expiring, so I was forced to find another job. It’s the loneliness that gnaws on me, sinking its sharp fangs into any happiness I feel. Whenever something good comes my way, my negativity sabotages it. I feel like I’m a cancer, plaguing every good element that comes my way and killing the good in my life. And it depresses me. I wish I could be more content. I wish I didn’t rely on others for happiness—whether it be from Jenny, my parents, or even past friends. I can’t even fathom my own emotions; quite honestly, I’m scared to face them. I mean, aren’t we all? Don’t we all fear what our inner thoughts can do? They can disrupt anything, destroying all of the decency we’ve worked so hard to construct. I’m a prisoner in my own mind; nobody understands—nobody wants to understand. Who wants to drag themselves into my misery? Yeah, I know. Maybe I’m embellishing how sad my life actually is. But I don’t think so. We feel the way we feel. Sure, people can always try to comfort you or belittle your problems by telling you how much worse everyone else has it, but that doesn’t help. In the end, life boils down to one thing and one thing only: we feel the way we feel and we can’t help it. We can only cope with it. We can only hope to be better the next day. Perhaps I’ll cope better. Perhaps I’ll change what needs to be changed. I feel him in my heart: that loose man that’s carrying my soul within me, hoping to find a graceful course to embark on. I can’t do it anymore. I tread heavily; my feet no longer press the ground with confidence but plod along. When I look in the mirror, my pale white skin, my watery brown eyes, and my ruffled black hair remind me of my sorrow. My smile can no longer illuminate a room. I don’t believe in myself. I don’t believe in anything about me. I don’t believe I can shape up and do what needs to be done. Perhaps I’m overly negative; perhaps I’m missing what needs to be seen. Far too often, I confine myself to the mountains of issues I have because I feel as if I deserve to suffer—to the point where a luminous beast of change will awaken within me, compelling me to change. Compelling me to be better than I was before. But it never happens. I’m euphoric in some moments, depressed in the very next. I’m beyond troubled; I’m a caged animal clawing for a way out. I hope change comes one day. I hope I’m finally able to understand this deep sea of emotions I’m submerged within.