morning wood

The alarm went off, buzzing in the gloom. I rolled over, pushed the snooze button, rolled over again. To put my arm around her, to complete the exercise without opening my eyes, I fumbled. Sh lifted her arm to let me in. Mmm. Thank you. Warm. Seven minutes later, the alarm went off. I rolled over, pushed the snooze button, rolled over again. Seven minutes later, the alarm went off. I rolled over, hit the snooze button, rolled back. But she was gone, away into the world, toward the office.

It's just a momentary pang, nothing more. You learn to live with it. After all, it happens every day. But it gets worse with time. I just want to stay here. It's good to be lost in a doze; good to be unaware and warm. I can almost pretend here. I can almost believe myself here. I can... I can get up. I'm late for work, and there's email to read.


So you try to be honest because you're supposed to be honest, and doing the right thing means being honest. No matter what happens, you'll have been a Good Person ™ so long as you were honest. Or you can say nothing at all for months at a go, bottled up in a mantra of pain. Or you can say the same thing over and over and over again until it becomes the truth from lack of fighting. I'm fine. And I am. Have you ever loved someone completely?

It's only now that I can look back and realize that she never really loved me; she loved the pursuit of me, the unapproachable anguish of lovers so cruelly torn apart. Loving me would end her quest, would lead to peace. And she was always such a woman at war. Now I think she's young and silly, and I love her for that. That's what it was. It was the war. That's why it didn't work out, And it was.

The problem is that you don't have a chance at loving someone until you're done loving the girl before and if you loved the girl before completely, it can take years to overcome. And if you get through it and you manage to fall in love again and if that woman you stumble across happens to be someone you can love completely, then you think, well. Maybe it'll be better this time.

It sure seems that way. When you love someone completely, it seems so genuine. And you'd do anything, anything to make it work. Sure, maybe you fight it every once in a while, this time, just to see if it still has a hold on you, to be sure it's not just in your head but in your heart. And maybe you rejoice a little bit each time you do, that it does, because there's hope in that, possibilities and a future. It never occurs to you that you might find yourself weeping over it. You can't see that it will turn on you, someday.

You might see problems, but you never think they're enough, you never think they justify the loss of the whole, you find yourself making excuses for them and trying harder. You come up with reasons why it's exactly the same as before, just better and worse in different ways, because everyone knows that having reasons is enough, that knowing why is enough, that knowing why has to be enough, because it's all you're going to get and you get used to it. And you do. After all, it happens every day.

You don't pay attention to what is so obvious, and you deny what is blatantly real. Every confidential discussion comes down to a basic argument that it doesn't matter. You love her. It doesn't matter. There's nothing you can do. You love her. And you tell yourself that you're so so sorry, but you won't know why.

You'll hurt so many people who will try to get close to you. Some precious souls will chance their hearts on the faith that you're a smart guy who will do the smart thing. They'll get hurt, either way.

You carry that love with you forever. I'll always love that girl who fought with herself so hard that she tore us apart. I'll always wonder about her, even if I choose not to see her again. I'll always be fond of her in that flawless way. She still can't do anything wrong, and her sins will always seem somehow endearing. It's a weight I've carried for a decade. It's a weight I'll always carry.

Because that's how it is. You get used to it. Of course, if you had it to do over again, you'd do it differently. Wouldn't you?

What if you find this is your last chance to love anyone completely? Everyone knows the only thing worse than loving someone completely is to be loved, completely. You don't know what's going to happen, you just don't know who you can trust, and all you ever wanted was to know.

Maybe you better not chance it. Put a brave face on it. Stick through it. It's not so bad, you know. It hurts to be lied to, but it could be worse. It's not so bad. And it is.


No one likes "I told you so." especially not when it comes within themselves. But what else can be said when someone made you a promise, and broke that promise, and you can't stop yourself regardless from loving them so? And how can you punish yourself enough for the sin of simply hoping, just a little faith despite knowing it was coming, denying it was coming, watching it approach and not answering the door?

What else is there to say when you realize that you'd been here before? How do you apologize for the other promise, the one you broke to yourself, all those years ago, when you swore up and down that you wouldn't allow it to ever happen again, that you'd never find yourself here again, and yet here you are. Another burden, another piece of a collection, waiting to be forgotten on the next available shore.

You don't talk about it. It's the only way to keep people from getting hurt. You smile. You push the snooze button, wrap your arm around her and tell yourself that this is all you need. And it is.