If he is my Fairground or is it time to go the Circus?

I always had a thing for the Fairground. The heady mix of bright lights music and adrenal rushing screams. To me he is like that;  as bright, as fascinating, as heart pumping  as a night out at the fair. 
Together we have played on all the rides. But somewhere I don’t know when or how, which moment it was but I lost him.
He was bored and disinterested and kept pointing out the clearly badly painted rides. The litter on the floor. He turned his nose up at the smell of the food coming from the vendors and no longer wanted to scream or make me scream with excitement. Instead looking at me with a level or curiosity as to why I would want to. ‘Aren’t we too old for that now?’
Maybe you are ducky but I am in my prime! 

Then he gave it to me. Those words that ended any last residual possibility. I had told him that I would need him to. That somehow I just couldn’t do this, I couldn’t properly walk away. I still loved him and I had this hope that he would love me too. So to help me out he did the equivalent of pissing on my leg after being stuck by a jellyfish, of cutting chewing gum out of my hair. He did me the favour which ended all the wanting, craving, fighting, it wasn’t pretty. Kind of horrendous really. 

I just don’t want to be married to you anymore.

Pow.  Killer punch. All doubts, all confusion, any hope killed with those words.
I still see the fairground as beautiful if a little old and shabby, the music is a little grating and plays all the songs I hate. I’ll admit I get a pang for the smell but don’t we always crave what’s bad for us?

But will I miss the rollercoaster, never knowing what to expect from the moment he comes in to goes out, the never ending changes. 

The waltzer as we go round and round spinning feeling sick with words that bombard me. My words. His words. No sense. Jumbled statement. Love. No love. Yes. No. Round and round. 

The helter skelter as I climb the stairs closer to the skies, happy, content only to plummet down bouncing off the walls clinging onto a bit of rug as if my life depended on it as I fall down again. 

The dodgems as we both aim for and ricochet of each other saying gaily  ‘didn’t hurt!’  Me too confrontational, too challenging. Trying too hard. Too aggressive. Too much unlike the woman he had fallen in love with. I don’t want to be her tho. You cheated on her. 

And the big wheel, where from the top all makes sense. I can see for miles. Everything used to make sense from the top. I was on top of the world. I had everything I ever wanted. What goes up must come down. But on a wheel if you wait long enough it always goes back up.

So enough fairgrounds for me. Will I always have a fondness or will it become disdain? Will I see how tacky they really are, all noise and speed, no substance, no proper enjoyment.  

I quite fancy the circus next… clowns to make me laugh, high wire and trapeze artists that I can marvel at their expertise. Grace. Beauty. Showmanship, daring. A man who commands an audience. Hmm wonder if there’s a dating app for that? 


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