DecemberSunlight

Part of the Music for the Masses collaboration.

ANGER

‘And there was a time where she would pray That each teardrop that rolled down her face Would represent a day of pain for him…’

When the hurt was still raw and stinging, I’d wrap spitefulness around me like a blanket. I’d imagine the agonies he might suffer once the error of his ways, once the huge mistake he’d made became painfully apparent. I’d picture exactly how awry his life would’ve gone, exactly how miserable it would make him, exactly how wracked and twisted it would leave him. And, bitter as I was, I’d feel vindicated.

DENIAL

‘She looks back in disbelief In confusion and in grief At what his secrecy was revealing…’

Not the classic Kubler-Ross denial in this case… but is there anything more tortuous than hindsight? ‘Red flags’ galore, and I missed every blessed one. And then they were up. And I refused to see them. Because I had invested so much of my time, so much of my heart – surely there had to be some positive that could come out of it, something that would justify the effort. It was salvageable, wasn’t it? I mean, it had to be. Right?

BARGAINING

If I’m there for him… If we stay friends… If I just hang in there… Maybe if I say just the right thing…

DEPRESSION

‘You can scream into your pillow You can pray into the night But you can’t switch off your feelings Like you’d switch out a light’

Wake up. Remember what happened. Reawaken the beast that’s been gnawing at your guts. Wonder if you’ve almost forgotten how to smile. Plod through your day. Sleep – when it comes. Try to dream of happier days, try to forget you’ll awaken to the same emptiness, the same self-doubt, the same betrayal.

ACCEPTANCE

‘She’d read it in her stars and now she felt it in her heart Things were going to start getting better… And now these winter skies Turn blue and bright And she feels alive And wants to drink every kiss Make up for what she’s missed And wipe him out of her mind…’

I didn’t wake up one morning and suddenly feel free of it, free of him… cliché as it seems, time does heal. The opposite of love has never been hate, it’s apathy – and it’s a long walk through hate to get there (see ‘anger). But once you’re there? Once it matters less and less, and you realize you haven’t really thought of him for… weeks? The world’s a brighter place, and you realize you’re steps closer to being healed.

(Of course, for those of us on the long trek through, there is this: “Some day he’ll have to grow up And come clean And listen to the screams Of his own conscience Cry out, cry out, cry out … And she’ll not hear a sound.’)

Entire lyrics are here.

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