Sometime in 2011

Not spending all my days in a thoughtless daze, but that mood set in last night–one of abandon. I let the wheel go and drove several feet on the opposite lane.

A nightmare followed. If I were to describe its affect, it would be something like being let down in exactly the way you feared you would, but that you would not have expected to actually occur: the feeling of having an unlikely possibility actualize itself.

Now I sit and keep planning, knowing there is no secret to feeling better through planning, but planning because it gives the semblance of safety and control, though I very well know its legs to be as wobbly as mine.

Would have liked to phrase it differently, but I couldn’t allow myself to write down the sentence as it wanted to be. Rearranging the words was just as difficult, so I stripped it of all other words but “love” and went back to bed.

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“I’m doing it all to myself,” I think, in bed, emotions clenching. Bring it down and descend. Resistance. I try again to bring it down and again it rises and I lift, too.

“You are the apex of mental and physical beauty.”

“I don’t even know what to do with you.”

“I love you.”

The roar of frustration, of not knowing how to secure that which has become too dear to even think of in such terms.

“Maybe there’s nothing we can do with each-other,” I say.

My tenderness has the capacity to crush you, so forceful it is, so charged and so immense. How can you know from the grip of it that you are in the grip of it? I release it and see the sky at your feet. And you: out of frame.

Oh, the more I start to live my life outside of you the more I come to understand your life outside of me.