Fractured Identity

Turns out writing about pain is a whole lot easier than writing about happy events. I hoped the words would continue to effortlessly flow from my mind after I moved on from the heartbreak unfortunately for the moment I am at a loss for words. How is this possible? Plenty of years behind me, broken hearts and a half empty view on life and yet not a single witty thought.
The chase was long over; thinking back now there never was much of a race. There was an instant attraction, love at first sight he said. We fell into a married routine effortlessly, which initially was a dream come true, but as the years past I lost sight of who I was pre coupled. I missed the chase, the lust, and the freedom and now I felt confined.
Unknowingly we had made the business relationship priority and as a result had bargained away our personal one. I assumed we were on the same page and while not an ideal situation I was content being more like roommates than lovers at least for the time being. I couldn't blame him for being afraid to talk to me during my moments of rage and hostility. Yet, because he never tried I grew more resentful and angry. As a result I gave up too and let what was left of a once intense love affair float away.
Where did the passion go? Was this what settling down meant? Four hours together everyday outside of work in which all we did was eat dinner and watch reruns of Law and Order, sitting right next to one another yet barely talking and drifting further apart.
What followed months later was not right. Yet, for some reason it didn't seem nearly as criminal as it was. But, then again maybe my views on what is right and wrong are fractured and by following my limelight vision I was letting go of the person I once was. But, she was never the image I was happy being. I wanted more and I foolishly didn't care or think about the domino effect of my actions or words. Why did I think it was right? Furthermore why did I let it go this far? Maybe I had evolved into the person I said I would never become, but the truth is I've always known which fractured identity would dominant in the end. Who you thought I was and who I portrait myself to be are the same it just depends what you choose to see.
Kate