On Archiving a Collection of White Flags

I say that I am ending things. This is not the first time that I say I will, nor is it the last time I will say I am going to make ends on the situation. Not to meet but to terminate. Not to settle but to discontinue.

"Also," I write to friends, "I am ending things."

I am taking their advice without following the application. I am paying for the prescription without taking any pills. In other ways I am curing myself without treatment. I nod my head as I receive the diagnosis from my friends while looking up the symptoms of other causes for malfunction. What's wrong with me? Nothing. Perfect. Well.

"I'm ending things," I say, "I can't take it anymore."

The subject hardly changes so the study only grows longer. The dosage of advice remains the same because I have not taken any. In other ways I am curing myself without treatment, but I know that my insistence on being defiant in this situation does not look very convincing to others. But just because you can see a bruise does not mean you can feel the pooling blood. When was the last time you felt indigo turn magenta to chartreuse?

Swallow. Good. Now, spit.

"Are you alright?" comes the response message.

I'm ending things, or so I want to do so yet again without intruding. Others are familiar with the story but they are growing tired, I fear, for there is no change still. Their predictions are neither wrong nor right but rather whimsy. To make a plausible suggestion is to make-believe a fantastical what-if.

"When you wake up call me and we'll talk," reads the message.

It's fine. I'm healing. Healthy! I am the author even if my ego is the character. Even if my character is the heroine or the victim. Even if my moral is an understudy for the bigger picture, which I cannot see because I am placed inside of it.

I am ending things, or so I want to, but how do you end what you did not start?

"I don't need this," I say. "I don't want this." 

"Everything is alright," I am told.

I should believe the spectator who has seen the spectacle so many times  already that reaction has been reduced to being protocol.