01/11/2025
When desire becomes memory we lose something.
In a marriage, it sounds like silence. The arguments stop, not because peace has arrived, but because resignation has. The words that once bridged difference now lie unused, and the calm feels heavy, not healing.
In parenting, it looks like compliance. You pander instead of engage, agree instead of connect. The air stays smooth, but the current underneath runs cold — the spark of honest exchange quietly gone.
And within yourself, it feels like stillness mistaken for peace. You call it acceptance, but it’s fatigue. You stop questioning, stop reaching, until complacency dresses itself up as calm.
When desire becomes a memory, the graveyard of having tried stretches endlessly behind you, and the orchard of hope is a distant scent you can no longer place.
Connection turns into coexistence. The living parts of love fall asleep — quietly, completely.