The End.

I always thought it was going to be explosive.
I thought that it going to be the end of me.
Things were different, though.
We were different.
We were closer, and we were better.
We could always be together, as long as we wanted to, no matter what.
And that's what made us so great.
We could both issue and take repeated beatings.
We never did it on purpose. 
Sometimes we did, but we survived even that.
We were solid in every sense of the word.


But things changed.
Everything gets brittle and breaks eventually.
Like a paper clip.
You can only bend it so many times before it snaps.
And that's what we were always doing.
We were bending us so that we worked.
I had, and still have no doubt that we could figure it out.
But we ran out of time. 
Too many stresses, too many problems.
We could have figured them all out,
but we 'broke'.


It's happened before.
We couldn't deal with it, and we had to turn our backs to each other for awhile.
We still loved each other.
There was still the fire that burned within me everyday.
For two months. 


It's not the same now.
She doesn't love me, or she doesn't know.
She's angry, and self-righteous.
And I understand.
I mess up frequently.
I just pushed her too far, this time.
She wants to do her thing.
And she doesn't care much for me, anymore.
I'm not angry.
I'm not sad.
I understand.


It's over, for a good long time, at least.
She wants to do things, and she doesn't want to compromise.
She's changed how she thinks.
I have, too.
I wanted to work things out, though.
I clung on for a bit longer than she did.
And it took me a while to realize it.
But we're done.


I'm not bitter,
so I'll keep all of the notes, gifts and memories.
I'll remember to good times,
and use the bad times to help my future relationships.
I did love her,
I still do,
but no longer am I in love with her.
It's too hard to do
when you have no support.


There will be things that always remind me of her,
Billy Joel,
fennel,
her weird perfume,
Alan Rickman,
Indiana,
the Fairy,
the toga.
They're warm memories.
Sacred memories,
great memories.


We had dreams,
and I don't think they'll come true,
but they still exist, 
and I regret nothing.


And if I've broken
every promise I've made,
I will always, always keep one.


The moon, 
that lights our sky,
lights our night,
shows the way,
sparks imaginations;


that's her's.
I gave that to her, 
and I will never give it to anyone else.
For my entire life.
For as long as I live.
I just threw a lasso around it,
and pulled it right on down for her.


Thank you, dear. 
You may gone,
we may be done,
but it was great.
The bad included.
All of it.
Everything.


I hope that all the wonderful, fantastical dreams you shared with me
come true.
Chances are, I won't be there.
But you'll be happy.
Which triumphs all.
Always.


October 30, 2008-November 1, 2009,
January 25, 2010-May 1, 2010.


Carpe Diem.
"Elle c'est quelques-unes sorte de merveilleux."

Thanks.

Thanks for saying yes.

Thanks for being what you are.

Thanks for putting up with me.

Thanks for loving me.

Thanks for making love

exclusive to you,

thanks for being 

all you can be.

Thanks for accepting 

my religion,

my wants

and my ways.

Thanks for being beautiful,

your soft glow,

your warm smile,

your spectacular eyes.

Thanks for waiting,

for me to figure out,

the ins, the outs

of your mysterious self.

Thanks for understanding

that I try,

to make you happy,

to make you content.

And baby,

thank you for knowing

that there's stronger men,

smarter men,

and better men,

but that no man's heart 

is bigger, and in a better place

than mine.

I know you might have to leave me,

I know we might be losing our luster,

I know our time is limited (...?) ,

so I want to tell you I love you,

that I dream of you,

and I want to give you the best I can give,

even if it's not good enough for you.

And I will,

until I die.

For you,

for whatever reason.

I love you, dearest.

I think of you, every minute of every day,

right up until the final minute

before I go to sleep.

You may be gone now,

you may leave later,

but my love for you,

will undoubtedly

last forever.

Failure of Competition.

I, suck.
I am mediocre.
And I see this because I value competition so highly.
There are ump-ton billions of people who can do anything I do, better.
And what does it matter?
Why do I need to be here, if someone can do what I do better?
If someone knows more,
if someone can do something faster,
if someone has a greater amount of accuracy,
then why should I try?


Not many are going to get 100%.
I don't get 100%.
I know many people who get better grades than I do.
Most other people.
And I don't know how they do it.
I don't know how they motivate themselves, 
I don't know how they perfect themselves.
I want to be good at everything.
I want to put forth the effort.
I want to do well.
Everyone says I do well at stuff,
but really?
How am I going to go to college?
How am I going to get the things I want?


I don't know.
I have a wonderful girl.
She's different from all the rest.
She's smart,
she's brilliant
she cares,
she's different.
She's good at all the things I want to be good at.
And she can't help me a single note.
It's not her fault, though;
it's mine.
I resent her wonderfulness.
I resent the fact that I don't understand,
that I can't be her.
I love her,
I need her,
and I foresee myself spending the see-able future with her.


I have to develop myself, first.
And I can't be who I will be with anyone's help.
I'll be the only one to determine what I am, who I'll be.


Easier said then done, though.
Just gotta thread the needle.