It makes me sick. Slightly
sick. Sometimes.
I wonder what is wrong and
what is right. Conventionally, yes am being foolish and horribly stupid. But
then what is right and what is wrong - the socially constructed rights and
wrongs?
He said he isn't causing
harm to or he isn't disturbing anyone.
“And you?” I asked.
He smiled. “It’s one’s
free will how one wants to be.”
“The emotional pain you
cause to others? Hurt?” I persisted.
“People should let people
be. Go find your peace.”
Since then am on my way,
trying to find it everywhere. Here and there, in theories and examples, in
learning and fables, in myself and in him, in rejections and acceptances. I
haven’t. I haven’t really found my peace. All I could manage to find is
disrespect and insult.
I delivered his love two
months ago. And the belly is almost level now. And his love delivered, consumes
my energies day and nights. He does love me much. And we do plan to plant yet
another seed. But it’s been four years and I have not been able to find an iota
of that peace.
May be to accept him doing
it, accepting it altogether is the
‘correct’ frame. I must accept it as okay. I have started hiding. Secretly and
covertly, when he is out, sometimes in the loo, sometimes when he’s fallen
asleep and sometimes when he isn't up yet. Sometimes I even share with him,
jokingly, making fun of it. Sometimes. I feel sick. Slightly. Sometimes. I
might be horribly stupid, but what is right and what is wrong?
I have taken to smoking so
as to accept him smoking. My love, my peace. Smokes.
