I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

I'll find you again.

Broken

I'm going to write words that I cannot say aloud. Words that I could never tell you because I love you too much. Words that hurt me. Words that will hurt you. Know that I feel these things because I am so profoundly in love with you. Please know that.

I'm angry. I'm angry at you because despite everything you've told me, you're still going to marry someone else. I'm angry that you say you love me, more than you've ever loved someone, but you can't spend your life with me. I'm angry that you're letting other people's potential opinions stop you from doing something you say you want.

I'm jealous. I'm jealous that you love her. I'm jealous of every minute you spend with her, of every moment you're together, of every passing kiss, of every conversation, of every picture. I'm jealous that you have two people in this world who are so in love with you they'd do anything to be with you.

I'm envious of her. I envy her position, her ring, her life. I envy that she is marrying my perfect man. My perfect man. I envy her connection with you. I envy her power over you. I envy her blissful content.

I don't understand. I do my best not to blame you, to be sympathetic, to cope; but it eats me alive. I can push away these feelings most days and focus on our intense, complete love. But I still don't understand. If you love me as much as you say you do, then what are you doing?

You express feelings. Feelings I treasure, words I can't believe you've said to me, words I never thought I would hear and actually believe. Your confessions melt my heart, make me cry with happiness, make me fall deeper and deeper in love with you. You will love me for the rest of your life. I will love you for the rest of mine. We share such a deep and profound connection. We understand each other like no one else. We know everything about one another and love each other more for it.

And yet every second we come closer to the day you profess your love to another, in front of hundreds of people, using the same words, the same sentiments.

The day you proclaim those words to someone else, the day you commit fully and unequivocally to the other woman, a piece of my heart will die. The piece that believes in true love, in life-changing, irreplaceable love.

And on that day I will suffer heartbreak like nothing I've ever experienced. Inconceivable pain, inconsolable grief will course through every fiber of my body. Enough to beckon Charon.

My only option is to wait.

Seeing these words isn't fair. I know that. I'm saying them because I don't want to accept losing you. I can't fathom a day without you. Everything I've said is selfish and I know that. But I don't know what to do.
I love you.

I danced with daffodils yesterday.

"I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils."

-Wordsworth

What am I doing?

That moment when you realize you don't just want to be in their life- you want to be a part of it. And they just don't understand that the other way is never going to be enough.

 

What am I doing?

It's been a while since my last entry-- and not for lack of inspiration. On the contrary, every day I'm filled with new revelations, new happiness, and unbearable heartache. The last few months have taken me on a roller coaster of inviolable passion, unreasonable rationale, and overwhelming despondency.

It's almost unthinkable to imagine one would submit themselves to such a tempestuous ride, knowing the end result was proposed and established long before you got on. And does that take away the fun of the ride? You know it will end, quickly and abruptly, perhaps, but you're not sure when or where. Maybe the conductor will let it pass through once more, maybe the ride will falter, holding you captive between two insurmountable peaks... Maybe you'll fall off, fall to your demise.
Without love, fear is only sacrificial.

I love you

The most tragic experience of my life has nothing to do with death or loss.

The most tragic experience of my life involves love.
And not lost love or unrequited love;

but complete, profound, unconditional love.

The kind that keeps you up at night;
the kind you lose your appetite over;
the kind where every time you see him you get butterflies and every second you spend with him you wish could go on forever.
The kind of love that's special and completely different from any other kind of love you've experienced.
The kind that makes you think irrationally, that takes over your senses, that consumes you.

The kind of love you feel when he's inside you.
The kind of love that makes you cry from happiness.
The kind of love that makes you desperately jealous;
the kind where you wish you could move away from everyone else, and live together on a deserted island.
The kind of love that makes you sure he's the only person you'll ever need.
The kind of love you know only comes around once in a lifetime.
The kind of love that allows you to be completely open with another person.
The kind of love that gives you the courage to confess your most painful secrets.
The kind of love that transcends every other emotion.

The kind of love that makes you afraid;
the kind that challenges your ability to trust.
The kind that makes you thankful you're alive.
The kind that you would die for.
The kind of love that would make you jeopardize your entire life to experience.
The kind of love you longed to find, but never thought was there.

The kind of love you create mixed C.Ds, paint pictures, write poems about.
The kind of love you can't stop thinking about.

Imagine this kind of love and feel it reciprocated.
It is indescribable.

Now imagine this love, this unconditional profound love, between two people who cannot be together. Imagine.
It is the most tragic experience of my life.
But I will never, ever, regret it.