I sat there in the passenger seat of the white Ford Ranger as my heart was sinking into my stomach again. Farms, fields, and trees rushed around me as my feelings began reeling. As we spoke, my lover and me, we somehow spun into an argument again. I could sense my self-esteem shrinking once again. No longer safe, I felt myself shattered. Expressing my emotions seemed impossible. Almost as if I was endlessly exposed, the criticism cut my confidence like barbed wire.

We cruised along as my love insulted me incessantly with every intent to induce insecurity. He hit each nerve like it was the target all along. His jaw shook as his spiteful speech sped ahead, each forceful syllable fuming forward. My face grew hot as I sensed the hate heaving towards my heart. Fearful, my smile faded. I attempted to make amends although he remained relentless in his resentment.

I wasn't an angel. My temperament was tested as I lost my patience. Then I allowed my morals to ascend as I unleashed my upset unto him. The words I wanted to say were ready to fall off my tongue almost as readily as the rising tears, ready to roll. But those were not the words I unleashed.  Instead, I felt my anger and aggression grow.  I retorted with equally insensitive entries to the argument. And each mile marker passed swiftly as if placed in synch with the pains in my chest.

I tried to back down and apologize with fleeting feelings.  I attempted with all my might to kill his condescension with kindness.  Like the scenery we had passed many times before grew smaller in the rear view, so did I. And just as we had passed the same patch of land a thousand times, I had felt this feeling more than I’d care to admit. Just as he passed over my feelings he passed the train running parallel to my pain. I buried the hurt into the emptiness that panged my stomach. I sunk even deeper into my seat.

With a sunken heart and a sunken face, I allowed my silence to surpass the urge to speak. I no longer desired to depict the desolate darkness that his demeanor had delved me into. I no longer felt compelled to converse or try and tell a word. I knew that speaking at all would only send me further into that emptiness that threatened to swallow my sanity. I surrendered to the futility and hopelessness that followed. And just like so many times before, I choked on the words I felt forming, and I did nothing, dying a little more inside each minute.