Space.
I’ve been doing that odd thing where I let what I want to say catch in the back of my throat because I’m unsure of how to manipulate it into something happier than the truth. Much more comfortable than accepting that somehow, I’ve allowed myself to be surprised by how quickly all of this happened. And now I don’t have much choice but to lean into it all with braveness and quiet certainty. Really, there is something about the physicality of this, even with the spaces between us. To be tangible, to be raw. And so these days, I’d rather find that consistently than reviewing dates on a calendar only to wonder when I’ll speak to you next to keep me desperately hanging on to a lofty idea of “eventually.”
I wonder.
I lay in bed, awake, thinking: There is a fate which drew us together, connected despite distance and time. I let you into my life without complaint, allowed myself to be more vulnerable than ever before and showed you my world and mistakes.. and allowed you to do the same. I walked into something I knew would end with a truth that would leave me unable to hold onto something anymore; the consequences of falling in love with someone when the burden is too heavy for the other to live, the result of the right person in the wrong circumstances; someone who wanted to care but wouldn’t because of the things tugging against us.
I wonder how long a person can keep quietly caring, silently praying with pleas of desperate hope to fates unknown, the foolish hopeful thoughts we move towards fearlessly. Is there any other way?
I wonder…
