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Restoring Faith in Romance


It's all feeling like a dream...a narrative my mind wants to write into a movie and set aside in a little box of my mind. It feels unfair, because the whole story is not written yet, and I know my memories will betray me. All the turmoil stems from those replays of nights spent touching and sensing and feeling good next to each other. The eye gazes, so intently and fiercely present. The comfortable, calming feeling that helped me remember my joy of existence. Cuddling on that tiny black chair, the white eucalyptus comforter, my van. Wondering why it makes me sad to think of our long strolls across the city...standing a mile high from the Capitol building as he says, "Now we'll remember this night, we experienced something new." The one who knows and remembers just the same way I do. Everything seems to glow a little softer as I imagine our first night walking from Starbucks to Sputnik, the big glowing lanterns.


He gets to stroll around without memories stained with me.


I'm not sure I can ever step in my van without remembering the endless stars at the sand dunes, the morning spent crying over his departure, the breathing of his chest rising and falling, anchoring my consciousness. I don't want to forget, I just want to get to the part where I am purely grateful for the memories. I also don't forget to wonder if he will ever say amazing words of affirmation to me anymore, if I will ever feel my fingertips against his, if I will feel no hesitance to feel his warm body against mine again. I wonder if I can share mundane facts about my life, if he will want to know the uninteresting parts of me, not that there are many remnants of routine in here anymore.


How can I feel so intense yet so calm, so sad yet so grateful, so victimized yet so empowered, so close yet so far, so connected with so much longing?


Feeling is so close to the reality of chaos, because it is not possible to create order out of it. I cannot will my way into closer connection, into placing his dot into my grand picture. I feel the sadness coming from not being a part of his story. But...it only takes a single touch to change reality eternally. Every day I dance and intertwine my threads with his, now extended further and further, challenging me to trust this elevated connection.


I carry with me the healing of love without needing to be different, to change, to even feel like compromise. It can be easy, you can still be your own universe, it's possible to lead and follow, to do everything and nothing and still have fun, to write your own stories, yet collaborate and share them together, and say so much by saying so little, to process and understand and purely perceive together.


Time to gather experiences and dance separately so we could intertwine even more beautifully when we reunite.

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