"When at first I learned to speak,
I used all my words to fight
With him and her and you and me,
Oh, but it's such a waste of time
Yeah, it's such a waste of time."
~The Avett Brothers, "I And Love And You"

Now

You never saw it, because I never liked how it looked on me, and I think on some strange level I will perpetually be trying to impress you (and I can hear you in my mind protesting; I had already gotten to you, why put myself out like that?). But god, when I first found out about Leo, I fought everyone like I had just picked up a vocabulary and could only use it in rage.

I fought with him, I fought with Leo like it was required for my survival. Obviously it was the natural reaction. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me, but I didn't know how I could possibly take a shot that would equal the damage he did. So I used my words, trying to find something in my language that would give me that look of helplessness, that crack of defeat in his voice, that I truly wanted. But even at my most vicious, I never got what I desired, perhaps because I never really knew how to be vicious. The worst thing I have ever done is let you down the way I did when I first met Leo, and even though you've told me otherwise, I know that that was me at my most brutal. I just didn't have it in me at that point to match that again; little did I know I would match it last night. He took my verbal punches like a champ, never once feeling deterred from the fight of our rapidly crumbling marriage. And it didn't satisfy that raging part of me that needed to lash out.

So I turned my attention towards her, towards the woman he slept with in Cambodia. I've never met her, and probably never will. Leo never told me what her name is. I have no idea what she looks like, or how she sounds, or what it was about her that made my husband loosen his grip on his fidelity. Maybe she said something that I never had the courage to say. Maybe it was a look, mixed with the fact that I had flown back to New York a long time ago, and he was getting lonely. Or maybe it was what drew me to you in the first place; maybe it was the warmth of her touch that he just couldn't resist (while I can't excuse it, I would know where he's coming from. After all, I was with Nathan when you first hooked me in). But I had an image of her in my mind, and it was she that I fought. Mainly when I was alone, when Will was on a date with Vince or at work while I had the day off. When I knew I had the apartment to myself, I would just let it out, vocalize everything about this woman I never knew, thinking it would untie the knot that was lodged in my chest. But this didn't last long, and I knew it never could. Because while this woman was real to Leo, she was merely a figment of my imagination. And because I would never meet her—or at least I never planned to—all of my protests died as soon as they hit the air.

But then you came back from Hawaii, I found you coming in from the fire escape at the office. And suddenly, all my energy was put into fighting off those old feelings. And I've got to tell you, Karen, you really took my mind off of all the things plaguing it. But it wasn't in the way I had hoped, at least not at first. I was never a good judge of the motives of others; I never let myself believe that those signals indicating that you felt the same way were real, because I didn't want to shatter the foundation that we just started rebuilding. But, god, I was getting tired. It exhausted me, keeping my lips away from yours, keeping my touch away from your skin, keeping my thoughts away from the desire to wrap you in my arms. And the way you kept leading me to the edge, whether or not you knew it. I wanted to jump off, take that risk. But my body wasn't equipped to handle that. Until that day in the coffeehouse.

When you kissed me back, there wasn't a need to fight like that anymore. And just like all the fighting I had done in the beginning, when I first found out about Leo, it was a completely pointless waste of time.

God, it was so easy to fall back in, Karen. It was almost as if we had simply been on pause for two years, until someone effectively pushed play again and we went about our life together as if nothing bad had happened, as if Leo had never piqued my curiosity and cut that semi-secret but wholly beautiful tie between us. We made Brooklyn our home, retreating to the dive bars and the bookstores, feeling the sand between our toes in Coney Island. We took up residence in the Chelsea coffeehouse once again, succumbing to the time warp and falling into step with the pace of our old Manhattan haunts. And just like the past, we never labeled what we were doing when it still counted.

Why are we so afraid to call it out for what it was? Is it really that difficult? We went through all of the motions, did everything everyone else does when they say they're in a relationship. And this time, we were free. We didn't have to sneak around pre-existing relationships. We didn't have to sneak around Will. And yet we never made a move to legitimize any of it. Maybe that's what made it easier for me to do what I did. Twice.

But then that would mean some of the blame is on you. And we both know that this is fully my burden, my fault. You don't deserve to feel this weight. Because it gets harder to breathe with every step, although now, I can't tell if it's actually because of the blame, or if it's because I find myself magnetically pulled to the place where you changed it up, where you did the one thing I didn't think would happen, if only because there was no precedent. And maybe if you had done it before, I would have cemented myself in your presence (if this sounds like I'm blaming you, I'm not; you know me, Karen, how easily swayed I can be sometimes). Honestly, I didn't think that that was what it was, because even you would have to admit that it was considerably meeker than every other time, when you had done it with such ease. But as I sit here alone in this subway car, the light above me flickering as if it isn't sure if I should stay in the dark, I'm beginning to realize exactly what it meant. All I know is that it played a giant part in changing my mind now, even if I am a little late to act on it.

You fought for me.

Part of me doesn't want to admit it, either because I was too foolish to understand what that kiss meant or because deep down I did understand but the obligation that my wedding ring held got in the way. But I knew I would find you on Coney Island last night, defying any logical voice in your head telling you to stay away from a place like that when it was so late, so dark. And I knew you would speak softly of my decision to try and work things out with Leo. But I wasn't expecting that kiss. I swear, I tasted your tears as your lips brushed mine, even though you probably wouldn't have admitted emotion, and it was too dark outside to tell whether or not you had been crying. You kissed me gently, too gently, like you were growing weaker and this was all you had to offer. This was your only line of defense, the only way to attempt to fix what I broke. Last night, I had taken it to signify your send off, only to be confirmed by the way you were acting at dinner tonight, as I failed to make amends with my husband. But now, as the subway breaks at the final stop, I know that your kiss was a final attempt to keep what we had.

I'm sorry it took me so long to catch on, Karen. Because your fight is the only one that made any sense.

You probably walked the same path last night that I'm walking now. I just want to get to the sand, I want to stand where we stood. I want to make it right, although I know that the chances of that happening are slim. But I've only ever known this place with you. And if I can't have you in my arms, then at least I can have the memories we made surround me. Coney Island is different at night, silent and looming. You told me once, while we were on the beach, that I was the dangerous one. And maybe walking fearlessly—perhaps stupidly—through this part of New York alone in the middle of the night qualifies that aspect in me. But I always play it safe. It's why I ultimately decided to go back to Leo, at least for the time being. I knew Leo wanted me back, even if he didn't deserve another chance. I knew where I stood with him. And although I had a hunch with you, we never labeled it. So I could never be sure.

The sand is cold on my bare feet—but at least I'm feeling something—as I continue the latest fight I find myself in, the one I'm waging against myself. It's a silent war, one that seems pointless, but one that I can't back away from. If anyone else knew, they would think me insane; one moment bashing myself for letting you go so easily, the next internally screaming that you're better off without me anyway. But lately, it's as if these two sides have decided to team up to fight against my entire being. Because even though my feet move closer to the ocean, further away from where you are, my soul is straining to be embraced by you once again. And even though you're not here, at least this place is a start.

Coney Island at night has never dealt me good things, if last night is anything to go on. But the darkness of the air here gives me a clarity that I never could have gotten in such a suffocating place as Leo's apartment. You were right in everything you said to me. Part of me just didn't want you to be. Because if you were right, that means that I threw away what we had for nothing; not once, but twice. And now, as my mind is setting itself straight and can finally make logical decisions, I want nothing more than to ride to Park Avenue and slide into your bed, feel the warmth of your arms around me as we fall asleep. I want nothing more than to feel your lips brush against mine not in futility like last night, but in ecstasy like those nights in the dive bar, paying a quarter for our soundtrack on the jukebox, dancing close with a buzz from a mix of cheap beer and the way you glow in the neon lights. I want nothing more than to feel you press me up against the side of my building in the pouring rain, plunging your kiss into my skin after you tell me you couldn't wait until we were inside, the way you did as we got caught in the storm on the way back from Riverside Park. I want nothing more than to give up this fight like I gave up the resistance to start over again.

I'm so tired, Karen, of everything. But I don't even know if you would give me a place to rest my head.

Honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't.

It was a waste of time to fight with Leo because I knew I wouldn't fully back away from my convictions. It was a waste of time to fight internally with the one he slept with, because she would never hear my argument. It was a waste of time to fight with you, because I knew we would fall back into the same step. But it certainly wasn't pointless to fight with myself. Because I know now how stupid it is to be here, when you're in Manhattan. I know now how stupid it is to be living a lie with a man I can't even say "I love you" to anymore. I know now that this place is no longer home, and I know now that I have to leave tonight, if I want to save whatever sanity I have left.

I know now where I should be. I just hope I still know the way to get there.