Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Friday, February 2, 2007
Just a quick thought for now.
Imagine a day without all of the things which you've now started taking for granted. Live one day without what we share, and tell me that you really still believe that you have a choice and that you can walk away and I'll buy it. I'll let go. That's all I need to hear to never darken your door again or trouble your placid, painful and predictable world. Tell me that you can live without me, can spend a day without connecting to me, wake up, go to bed and breathe without a thought of me in your mind and I'll let go. Just that simple. A to B.
Simply put? I can't. Or rather, I can, but it creates such a gravity well in my stomach that it makes me difficult to stand. So. I guess asking you to leave me be is out of the question.
I'm not unhappy about that.
Simply put? I can't. Or rather, I can, but it creates such a gravity well in my stomach that it makes me difficult to stand. So. I guess asking you to leave me be is out of the question.
I'm not unhappy about that.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Letting You Go
There's nothing more I can say. Nothing more I can do, show you or give you. You have it all. You may not have seen it all, but you've seen the pieces that will make the whole. You, in other words, know what's inside the box. I've done everything that's within my power to do. Now it's your turn. Now you have to open the box.
You probably could have guessed this (and I may have even told you) but I used to have a Method by which I made difficult decisions. Still do, in a way. But when I was younger and more ... flexible, for lack of a better word, things were much, much simpler. When faced with a decision between two possible alternatives, I would always choose the path least traveled. I would look into the possible futures, and if there was one path down which I could see further, which felt more secure and predictable, I'd choose the other. Without fail. This, naturally, led to many hardships, but I always at least had an interesting story to tell afterward.
It surprises me very little to hear that we are polar opposites in this regard. But we are both older, wiser and better than we once were. The choice isn't as black or white as it once was, love. It's not a choice between right and wrong. It's not nearly as clear as all that. Not by a mile. We aren't making this choice. It's making us. Somehow, for some reason some thing has decided to put you and I in close proximity and I feel as if there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. Except decide to let you go.
And I'm not letting you go.
I say that a lot. It's even inscribed on a piece of jewelry you're wearing. It's written, as they say, in stone. I keep saying this because I believe it. Because it's true. I am not letting you go. I never will. I'm holding you now, only you don't know it - don't see it or feel it or believe it. But I am. And if you look closely enough, you'll see that it's true. See that you're holding me, too. Otherwise, why would you be here? Do you think that you really haven't walked through that door yet? Do you really feel as if the page can be unturned?
Imagine a day without all of the things which you've now started taking for granted. Live one day without what we share, and tell me that you really still believe that you have a choice and that you can walk away and I'll buy it. I'll let go. That's all I need to hear to never darken your door again or trouble your placid, painful and predictable world. Tell me that you can live without me, can spend a day without connecting to me, wake up, go to bed and breathe without a thought of me in your mind and I'll let go. Just that simple. A to B.
I realize that I've been spending a great deal of time opening doors for you, showing you the truth of things, exposing my every crevice to your inspection and waiting, breath baited, for you to choose. I realize that I've been hanging on every word, written or spoken, hoping for some clue from you as to whether or not you'll ever take my hand and fly with me. I realize that I've been living my life for these past few weeks as certain of my own feelings for you and the beautiful, wonderful possible life before us as I am of the sun rising in the East, but completely uncertain as to where you stand and what you'll do. I doubt you because you doubt yourself, and I sometimes wonder if you'll ever give me permission to stop doubting. I wonder if your need for doubt and confusion is so strong that you feel threatened by my lack of it and feel better when I join you in that darkness. I wonder if, in your fear of walking through that door, you've not instead been trying to pull me through the other way.
I'm not letting you go. You know this. I can't make it any more true. I can't make my love for you any more real, any more perfect to enjoy in your presence or any less painful to endure without you in my life. I will tell you every day because it's true every day. And I will love you every day, show you that I love you every day and prove that love to you every day because it is there every day waiting to be given to you. But I can't force you to fly with me. I can't walk you through that door. That's up to you. I won't let you fall. I'm not letting you go. That's a promise I've pledged, but what good is that promise if I'm not holding you? How can I let you go when you won't let me hold you? I can't make promises to someone who's not there. I can't love a shadow.
Do you really think this is easy? I'm asking you to walk off a cliff and promising that I'll catch you, not let you go. What's easy is stepping in and back out again. What's easy is always knowing that the door is still open, either way, and you need only dart back through when the first pangs of doubts cross your mind. It's easy living in our world, your future world, because you haven't yet let go. That's what we got a glimpse of this past week. You took a few further steps inside and we looked at the demons, and although parts of that was painful, it was all good. It was as good as good can get, and I love you more today that I ever have. More and more every day, in fact. And I still won't let you go. But it's not all that easy. Not really. Easy to look at maybe, but not easy to take. Not easy to grab and make your own. Otherwise, why wouldn't you be doing it right now?
You think you're running away by coming to me, but I don't believe that's true. I think you're running away by not taking my hand and flying with me. Running away fro the really scary thing - being happy. I think you've been running away for a very long time, and now the thought of running _to_ something is as terrifying as death. As terrifying as jumping off a cliff, maybe.
You probably could have guessed this (and I may have even told you) but I used to have a Method by which I made difficult decisions. Still do, in a way. But when I was younger and more ... flexible, for lack of a better word, things were much, much simpler. When faced with a decision between two possible alternatives, I would always choose the path least traveled. I would look into the possible futures, and if there was one path down which I could see further, which felt more secure and predictable, I'd choose the other. Without fail. This, naturally, led to many hardships, but I always at least had an interesting story to tell afterward.
It surprises me very little to hear that we are polar opposites in this regard. But we are both older, wiser and better than we once were. The choice isn't as black or white as it once was, love. It's not a choice between right and wrong. It's not nearly as clear as all that. Not by a mile. We aren't making this choice. It's making us. Somehow, for some reason some thing has decided to put you and I in close proximity and I feel as if there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. Except decide to let you go.
And I'm not letting you go.
I say that a lot. It's even inscribed on a piece of jewelry you're wearing. It's written, as they say, in stone. I keep saying this because I believe it. Because it's true. I am not letting you go. I never will. I'm holding you now, only you don't know it - don't see it or feel it or believe it. But I am. And if you look closely enough, you'll see that it's true. See that you're holding me, too. Otherwise, why would you be here? Do you think that you really haven't walked through that door yet? Do you really feel as if the page can be unturned?
Imagine a day without all of the things which you've now started taking for granted. Live one day without what we share, and tell me that you really still believe that you have a choice and that you can walk away and I'll buy it. I'll let go. That's all I need to hear to never darken your door again or trouble your placid, painful and predictable world. Tell me that you can live without me, can spend a day without connecting to me, wake up, go to bed and breathe without a thought of me in your mind and I'll let go. Just that simple. A to B.
I realize that I've been spending a great deal of time opening doors for you, showing you the truth of things, exposing my every crevice to your inspection and waiting, breath baited, for you to choose. I realize that I've been hanging on every word, written or spoken, hoping for some clue from you as to whether or not you'll ever take my hand and fly with me. I realize that I've been living my life for these past few weeks as certain of my own feelings for you and the beautiful, wonderful possible life before us as I am of the sun rising in the East, but completely uncertain as to where you stand and what you'll do. I doubt you because you doubt yourself, and I sometimes wonder if you'll ever give me permission to stop doubting. I wonder if your need for doubt and confusion is so strong that you feel threatened by my lack of it and feel better when I join you in that darkness. I wonder if, in your fear of walking through that door, you've not instead been trying to pull me through the other way.
I'm not letting you go. You know this. I can't make it any more true. I can't make my love for you any more real, any more perfect to enjoy in your presence or any less painful to endure without you in my life. I will tell you every day because it's true every day. And I will love you every day, show you that I love you every day and prove that love to you every day because it is there every day waiting to be given to you. But I can't force you to fly with me. I can't walk you through that door. That's up to you. I won't let you fall. I'm not letting you go. That's a promise I've pledged, but what good is that promise if I'm not holding you? How can I let you go when you won't let me hold you? I can't make promises to someone who's not there. I can't love a shadow.
Do you really think this is easy? I'm asking you to walk off a cliff and promising that I'll catch you, not let you go. What's easy is stepping in and back out again. What's easy is always knowing that the door is still open, either way, and you need only dart back through when the first pangs of doubts cross your mind. It's easy living in our world, your future world, because you haven't yet let go. That's what we got a glimpse of this past week. You took a few further steps inside and we looked at the demons, and although parts of that was painful, it was all good. It was as good as good can get, and I love you more today that I ever have. More and more every day, in fact. And I still won't let you go. But it's not all that easy. Not really. Easy to look at maybe, but not easy to take. Not easy to grab and make your own. Otherwise, why wouldn't you be doing it right now?
You think you're running away by coming to me, but I don't believe that's true. I think you're running away by not taking my hand and flying with me. Running away fro the really scary thing - being happy. I think you've been running away for a very long time, and now the thought of running _to_ something is as terrifying as death. As terrifying as jumping off a cliff, maybe.
Throwing, catching, hitting
You said something very interesting last night. You suggested that I might be doubting, having second and third thoughts not because anything was actually wrong, but simply because it's in my nature to question everything good that comes my way. I hadn't considered it from that angle before, but I think that's dead-on accurate. What's troubling me about this, all of this, this new life that is layed out before me is that it's all just too goddamn easy. And my brain simply can't accept that something so effortless doesn't have a great big catch, a huge "Gotcha!" waiting in the wings, ready to pounce once I accept my good fortune.
Falling in love with you? Took a matter of days. Getting you to love me back? Just had to be myself. The new job? Pfft...from first hearing about it to actually getting it was simplicity itself. I've been busting my ass for years to get exactly what was just handed to me, all wrapped up with a velvety bow, and all I had to do to get it was ask. Wow, really? Is it all that simple? Have I been working so hard for so long simply because I'd never thought to say "please?"
It can't possibly be that easy.
About twenty years ago, a new highway opened up near my house. It had been in the works for what seemed like forever, and when it was finally finished, you could practically hear the sigh of relief emanating from the local populace. Getting from Point A to Point B instantly became massively easier, countless hours of travel time were saved, and yet my mother refused to set foot (or tire) upon it. I asked her once why she wouldn't use it, since it was so much faster and easier than her preferred routes, which were harder, more dangerous, and took longer. "It's what I know," was her reply, and that was the end of that.
I find myself looking towards my life, my previous life, the one I had before meeting you and I'm drawn to it not because it's particularly attractive, but simply because it's what I know. It's hard, and it's dreary, and it makes me feel ordinary and pointless, but it's what I know. It's a certainty, all of it. I know exactly what to expect from it at any given moment. The same cannot be said of my future life, the one that makes me feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, like I could fuckingwell fly if I had half a mind to. And it can't be known, of course, until it's lived, but I'm so terrified that it's some sort of cosmic joke. That I'm somehow blinding myself to the man behind the curtain because I want it all to be true, because, dear god, why wouldn't I? In short, I don't trust my judgment because...because it's all just too damn easy. And real life, as I know it anyway, is hard. So anything this easy must therefore be fantasy, no?
I wrote a story recently about some students who used the Unreal Engine to create a simulation for patients who suffered from various ailments like vertigo or agoraphobia. By running through the sim, the patients, over time, could rewire their brains so that they would no longer suffer from the irrational fears that kept them from living normal lives. I think that's what I need. I hope that, with prolonged exposure, I'll finally be able to get my brain to accept that not everything good is a trap or a trick.
Unless, of course, it is.
Falling in love with you? Took a matter of days. Getting you to love me back? Just had to be myself. The new job? Pfft...from first hearing about it to actually getting it was simplicity itself. I've been busting my ass for years to get exactly what was just handed to me, all wrapped up with a velvety bow, and all I had to do to get it was ask. Wow, really? Is it all that simple? Have I been working so hard for so long simply because I'd never thought to say "please?"
It can't possibly be that easy.
About twenty years ago, a new highway opened up near my house. It had been in the works for what seemed like forever, and when it was finally finished, you could practically hear the sigh of relief emanating from the local populace. Getting from Point A to Point B instantly became massively easier, countless hours of travel time were saved, and yet my mother refused to set foot (or tire) upon it. I asked her once why she wouldn't use it, since it was so much faster and easier than her preferred routes, which were harder, more dangerous, and took longer. "It's what I know," was her reply, and that was the end of that.
I find myself looking towards my life, my previous life, the one I had before meeting you and I'm drawn to it not because it's particularly attractive, but simply because it's what I know. It's hard, and it's dreary, and it makes me feel ordinary and pointless, but it's what I know. It's a certainty, all of it. I know exactly what to expect from it at any given moment. The same cannot be said of my future life, the one that makes me feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, like I could fuckingwell fly if I had half a mind to. And it can't be known, of course, until it's lived, but I'm so terrified that it's some sort of cosmic joke. That I'm somehow blinding myself to the man behind the curtain because I want it all to be true, because, dear god, why wouldn't I? In short, I don't trust my judgment because...because it's all just too damn easy. And real life, as I know it anyway, is hard. So anything this easy must therefore be fantasy, no?
I wrote a story recently about some students who used the Unreal Engine to create a simulation for patients who suffered from various ailments like vertigo or agoraphobia. By running through the sim, the patients, over time, could rewire their brains so that they would no longer suffer from the irrational fears that kept them from living normal lives. I think that's what I need. I hope that, with prolonged exposure, I'll finally be able to get my brain to accept that not everything good is a trap or a trick.
Unless, of course, it is.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Y'all Still Be Here When I Wake Up?
It's interesting to me how we focus on the different aspects of things.
But first, I have to make a confession: I'm having a much harder time being objective about you and your life and what you should do than I was a week ago. I know you feel torn. Tugged at and manipulated. I know you feel as if there are too many hands needing holding and too little of you to go around. I know I contribute to that, and I hope that you know I don't want to. I want you in my life, but I want you to be in my life willingly, because you want to be, not because you feel obligated.
But I, too, feel torn. I feel torn between, on the one hand, wanting to offer you an out; wanting to allow you the freedom to explore what feels right and not feel obligated to uphold silly promises sworn in the throes of passion. On the other hand, I feel that I'm betraying myself, my soul, my heart and you by not being honest and admitting that I feel deeply hurt by your constant questioning and self doubt. I feel empty enough, not having you here and knowing (when you are here) that you'll have to leave, but to know that you are, on some level, questioning every word you say to me, every promise you make and every oath of love, days, hours, maybe minutes after they leave your lips makes me feel beyond empty. It makes me feel as if I'm pouring love into a bottomless pit, two and a half miles straight down.
And then I look into your eyes, and see my love shining back at me in those moments when you put all that away and allow yourself to look at what I'm giving you. Not look away and question, actually look at it, feel it, embrace it and open yourself to it, I feel my love returned. I feel my own love for you radiating back at me, see my look in your eyes and feel like there's nothing on this earth that can come between us. Except maybe ourselves, for when you look away again, all too often, the feeling fades. I keep fearing that you'll leave the room and disappear. I'm afraid that I'll wake up and you'll be gone. Not because this isn't real, but because you can't believe in it, even when it's staring you in the face.
I've said this too many times, but it's the best way I know how to tell you I love you now, aside from holding you in my arms, brushing my rough hands against your soft, beautiful face and promising with a whisper in your ear that I'll love you, hold you, keep you and protect you forever, or as long as humanly possible (whichever comes first). I love you. You. Not the you-shaped hole in my life when you're gone, and not the general idea of a you-type person to fuck and laugh with. I love you. Every bit of you. Even the cranky, mean bits. Even the fighting you. Even the you that hates, fights and questions me. Even the you that doubts.
Anyway, as I said, it's interesting to me what we remember - or interpret - differently. I feel like we had a handful of wonderful, but tempestuous days, although we only fought about a few things, and those were things over which we were going to have to come to an understanding at some point anyway. Things we'd never dared speak about to another living soul, much less open ourselves to a debate over. I feel like we threw open all the doors to our lives, invited each other in to look around, didn't like some of the things we found and then spat at each other, mad that we'd each broken some unspoken covenant to not address real things. It feels as if the dream died this week; our storybook romance, in which I give up saving people from drowning and walk into your classroom to rescue you from a life of schoolmarmish loneliness. It feels like that movie wrapped up the day you stepped off the plane and after that we were on our own to figure out how to love each other without the numbing hum of adrenaline in our ears. I think this week we moved beyond the theoretical of living a perfect life, loving a perfect love with our perfect partners. We were faced with the possibility of actually having to do it and that thought terrified us and we fumbled a bit, forgetting that it wasn't something we dreamed up out of nothing, but something that found us, picked us out of a random life because it was perfect for us; something that drew us together, in spite of all odds, not because we desperately wanted it (although we did) but because we are the two halves of a perfect person.
We fell in love a long time ago. That's not what this week was about. This week was about trying to decide if we trusted our hearts, trusted that invisible thing which pointed us the way to each other and said "Dude, check it." This week was about testing the limits of the dream. We did good in some parts, bad in others, but in the end, after the credits rolled and the last audience member filed out, shoes sticking slightly to the floor, we remained, looking into each other's hearts, loving each other for who we really are and what we bring to each others' lives and not wanting to make that stupid, sad trip to the airport one more time. I fucked you tonight and afterward I wanted ot go make you tacos, and settle in for a long evening of just being myself with you, just being yourself. We fought today and worked through things today and lived life today, and at the end of this day I just wanted to exist in your presence. Nothing more, nothing less. But that wasn't to be. Not tonight. Maybe not for many nights. And if you can honestly tell me that your doubts overshadow the pain ion your heart at the knowing of that, then you may just convince me of that thing I need to know in order to let you go. If you can, that is. If you can.
So ponder away, my love. Think long and hard. As long and as hard as you like. Leave me, even, if that's what you have to do. Forget what we've had, decide it's not for you, doubt its very existence if that makes something inside of you feel more right than resting in my arms and feeling my love for you. If you have to go that road, then do it. If you have to explore every possible negative alternative to the fact that I'm here, I love you and this is real, then do so. But please hurry home when you're done. And if you can skip the whole doubting, questioning bit, all the better. We both know how this ends. Stop fucking around and come home. Your husband misses you terribly and your life awaits.
The fact that you dreamed about it doesn't make it any less true.
But first, I have to make a confession: I'm having a much harder time being objective about you and your life and what you should do than I was a week ago. I know you feel torn. Tugged at and manipulated. I know you feel as if there are too many hands needing holding and too little of you to go around. I know I contribute to that, and I hope that you know I don't want to. I want you in my life, but I want you to be in my life willingly, because you want to be, not because you feel obligated.
But I, too, feel torn. I feel torn between, on the one hand, wanting to offer you an out; wanting to allow you the freedom to explore what feels right and not feel obligated to uphold silly promises sworn in the throes of passion. On the other hand, I feel that I'm betraying myself, my soul, my heart and you by not being honest and admitting that I feel deeply hurt by your constant questioning and self doubt. I feel empty enough, not having you here and knowing (when you are here) that you'll have to leave, but to know that you are, on some level, questioning every word you say to me, every promise you make and every oath of love, days, hours, maybe minutes after they leave your lips makes me feel beyond empty. It makes me feel as if I'm pouring love into a bottomless pit, two and a half miles straight down.
And then I look into your eyes, and see my love shining back at me in those moments when you put all that away and allow yourself to look at what I'm giving you. Not look away and question, actually look at it, feel it, embrace it and open yourself to it, I feel my love returned. I feel my own love for you radiating back at me, see my look in your eyes and feel like there's nothing on this earth that can come between us. Except maybe ourselves, for when you look away again, all too often, the feeling fades. I keep fearing that you'll leave the room and disappear. I'm afraid that I'll wake up and you'll be gone. Not because this isn't real, but because you can't believe in it, even when it's staring you in the face.
I've said this too many times, but it's the best way I know how to tell you I love you now, aside from holding you in my arms, brushing my rough hands against your soft, beautiful face and promising with a whisper in your ear that I'll love you, hold you, keep you and protect you forever, or as long as humanly possible (whichever comes first). I love you. You. Not the you-shaped hole in my life when you're gone, and not the general idea of a you-type person to fuck and laugh with. I love you. Every bit of you. Even the cranky, mean bits. Even the fighting you. Even the you that hates, fights and questions me. Even the you that doubts.
Anyway, as I said, it's interesting to me what we remember - or interpret - differently. I feel like we had a handful of wonderful, but tempestuous days, although we only fought about a few things, and those were things over which we were going to have to come to an understanding at some point anyway. Things we'd never dared speak about to another living soul, much less open ourselves to a debate over. I feel like we threw open all the doors to our lives, invited each other in to look around, didn't like some of the things we found and then spat at each other, mad that we'd each broken some unspoken covenant to not address real things. It feels as if the dream died this week; our storybook romance, in which I give up saving people from drowning and walk into your classroom to rescue you from a life of schoolmarmish loneliness. It feels like that movie wrapped up the day you stepped off the plane and after that we were on our own to figure out how to love each other without the numbing hum of adrenaline in our ears. I think this week we moved beyond the theoretical of living a perfect life, loving a perfect love with our perfect partners. We were faced with the possibility of actually having to do it and that thought terrified us and we fumbled a bit, forgetting that it wasn't something we dreamed up out of nothing, but something that found us, picked us out of a random life because it was perfect for us; something that drew us together, in spite of all odds, not because we desperately wanted it (although we did) but because we are the two halves of a perfect person.
We fell in love a long time ago. That's not what this week was about. This week was about trying to decide if we trusted our hearts, trusted that invisible thing which pointed us the way to each other and said "Dude, check it." This week was about testing the limits of the dream. We did good in some parts, bad in others, but in the end, after the credits rolled and the last audience member filed out, shoes sticking slightly to the floor, we remained, looking into each other's hearts, loving each other for who we really are and what we bring to each others' lives and not wanting to make that stupid, sad trip to the airport one more time. I fucked you tonight and afterward I wanted ot go make you tacos, and settle in for a long evening of just being myself with you, just being yourself. We fought today and worked through things today and lived life today, and at the end of this day I just wanted to exist in your presence. Nothing more, nothing less. But that wasn't to be. Not tonight. Maybe not for many nights. And if you can honestly tell me that your doubts overshadow the pain ion your heart at the knowing of that, then you may just convince me of that thing I need to know in order to let you go. If you can, that is. If you can.
So ponder away, my love. Think long and hard. As long and as hard as you like. Leave me, even, if that's what you have to do. Forget what we've had, decide it's not for you, doubt its very existence if that makes something inside of you feel more right than resting in my arms and feeling my love for you. If you have to go that road, then do it. If you have to explore every possible negative alternative to the fact that I'm here, I love you and this is real, then do so. But please hurry home when you're done. And if you can skip the whole doubting, questioning bit, all the better. We both know how this ends. Stop fucking around and come home. Your husband misses you terribly and your life awaits.
The fact that you dreamed about it doesn't make it any less true.
Out of Gas
I'm spent. Exhausted. Tired not just on a physical level, but on an emotional one as well. Like a sponge that's been squeezed of every last drop of water, then tossed in a kiln for good measure. There's just plain nothing left in the tank. And yet so many more miles to go.
This latest trip was...not what I'd hoped. I wanted a safe haven in which to hide, recharge, be at peace, but that's not what I found at all. I found more conflict, more turmoil, and more negativity. Part of it is my own stupid pre-formed expectations, this childish vision I had of "this will make everything all better." I keep running to you because that means I'm running away from reality. From the real world. At some point, however, reality was going to catch up and that's what happened this week.
We fought. Over and over and over again, we fought. Over important things and stupid things and everything in between. Inevitable, I suppose. You can't share so many emotions so deeply and not expect the bad ones to come out, too. Still, all experiences have value, even the negative ones. I learned a lot this week, about you, about me, and about us. Some of it was good, some of it was not. Two items are of particular interest to me.
The first is that this morning I woke up after several straight days of conflict with you and I was genuinely sorry that I would be leaving. We won't work on the garden together tonight. I won't see egg dog do the happy dance. I won't be able to sneak glances at your hand, hoping to catch a glimpse of your ring of protection. All of this, that has become so normal to me, so How It Is will once again be gone. You were right, you know. I already find myself taking far too much for granted.
The second thing that interested me was this very day. I am upset for a variety of reasons, including something you said. You know this, we discussed it. However, as soon as a problem came up at your job, I was quite content to shove all of that which had been so important mere moments before to the side to focus on the task at hand and give you the best counsel that I could. Not because it let me avoid my own issues--I'm extremely good at avoiding things--but because helping you was far more important. And because I'm your partner, and that's what partners do.
So. I have much to ponder as I head for that goddamn airport once again. I don't want to leave. I really, really don't.
This latest trip was...not what I'd hoped. I wanted a safe haven in which to hide, recharge, be at peace, but that's not what I found at all. I found more conflict, more turmoil, and more negativity. Part of it is my own stupid pre-formed expectations, this childish vision I had of "this will make everything all better." I keep running to you because that means I'm running away from reality. From the real world. At some point, however, reality was going to catch up and that's what happened this week.
We fought. Over and over and over again, we fought. Over important things and stupid things and everything in between. Inevitable, I suppose. You can't share so many emotions so deeply and not expect the bad ones to come out, too. Still, all experiences have value, even the negative ones. I learned a lot this week, about you, about me, and about us. Some of it was good, some of it was not. Two items are of particular interest to me.
The first is that this morning I woke up after several straight days of conflict with you and I was genuinely sorry that I would be leaving. We won't work on the garden together tonight. I won't see egg dog do the happy dance. I won't be able to sneak glances at your hand, hoping to catch a glimpse of your ring of protection. All of this, that has become so normal to me, so How It Is will once again be gone. You were right, you know. I already find myself taking far too much for granted.
The second thing that interested me was this very day. I am upset for a variety of reasons, including something you said. You know this, we discussed it. However, as soon as a problem came up at your job, I was quite content to shove all of that which had been so important mere moments before to the side to focus on the task at hand and give you the best counsel that I could. Not because it let me avoid my own issues--I'm extremely good at avoiding things--but because helping you was far more important. And because I'm your partner, and that's what partners do.
So. I have much to ponder as I head for that goddamn airport once again. I don't want to leave. I really, really don't.
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