It is a terrible poison to find that when what you pine for is granted to you, your heart flinches and begins to target anew. It’s a terrible curse to hear words and beneath them hear this guttural chant, these fiendish songs ring out that speak of the end of all things.
It is so strange. So surreal. So within my grasp at the same moment it is flung far from my heart. To know that I can no longer turn back and ever expect to cross this river. That, alas, I cannot swim, but nevertheless I find myself diving in.
I did not expect this and now I am to write you a letter tonight that professes my deep affections, affections I surely have because I read back and realize I have shared them before. Shared them over a long summer of hopes and dreams that aged and iced into this intermittent winter that is half-summer and half-slick, frosted windowpanes glittering around and in front of me as far as the eye can see. We’re here now and I think you think nothing has changed and I think I think everything has. Neither of us can possibly be right.
You tell me on the phone about this joke of a thing, entering a raffle to win a prize, to win a trip to somewhere nearby. Nearby as in – in the state. In the same region, as in the way real people exist in relationship to one another when they think about their relationships.
Still the offer is intangible, hedged, locked in the roll of a dice as we joked. Should I? If I? Would I? Would that be okay. I was all encouragement. I was every moment delighted. And why not? Why not after presents had been sent and dear, kind remarks about my sweetness and loveliness and overall charms? How can I be both so moved and so cynical at the same moment?
But it had a real location. A place I knew, if not well, then, at least a place that is here. And how I have wrestled in my mind over this. After all of these internal struggles of concern over being left in the dust to some other person out there in the world, of wanting just the security of a Facebook status change and feeling entirely thwarted in such regards, suddenly, there’s this suggestion provided apropos of nothing.
I will adjust, I will calm and this will either pass or be brought up again. The frenzies of the morning never seem to make it to the night. I am not to be tossed aside
Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned about the email from my dear friend. There are things going on and I need to concentrate and lock it down and make it happen.
At least got those nails painted.