Back to the Beginning

It's a Sunday evening that really is a Monday midnight. I'm back home to the familiar winds, the humidity that sticks, the general disorder.

Tonight is the preface of the story that started its narrative 3 years ago.

For the longest time, I've been stuck against this wall, holding my head close, hoping to hear some comforting sound aside from the groan of a desperate ear and constant longing of a heart against what is a solid divide. I've composed my own vows: pledged my promises for your happiness and my quiet -- I've ennobled my devotion and unexplained dedication.

My eyes were set upon stone. I saw you for all I wanted you to be, and I was content. My world had been limited and my options defined. I chose - you know I chose - I chose you. I chose you that day when we were far away, and I realized with more poignancy than ever that all I tried to catch, I did for my own sake, and not for what I had pretended to be the best for us. I chose you the moment I opened my eyes, put my phone in my pocket, and went on with my day. I chose you, because it gave me reason and gave you peace.

My heart was complete, but constructed with a gap. My mind stopped questioning my senses and allowed myself my own truth. The sky was gloomy, then clear, and I slipped to the clouds.

But then, years later, I touched back down. My solace was splintered by two voices, neither of whom was yours, but both of which I wanted to hear. I was afforded a crack in the wall that now I painfully chip and try to break through.


You cried.


The world had been stolen from under your feet, and you looked bitter and you cried. Now they tell me that I was really quite transparent, and that apparently you aren't.


Why now? What of it? Is stupidity worth hurting the both of us again? My perfect wall, as with all of me when it comes to this, presents itself as flawed. I am again plagued by indecisiveness. You again have captured my heart, as you did all those years ago. But this time, my intentions are clouded with malevolence because, as selfish as this sounds, I want to break you and put you back together as mine. I want to be your savior: the only one who saw you in pieces, and remembered you as whole.

The rain patters on my windowsill and I look cautiously at the clock that's about to call the sun. My mind is full of questions, and my heart empty in anticipation. I have a feeling that the storm will pass soon, and the heat of the sun will again beat down as I remember it to. Tomorrow they'll be working to put things back in order; I have something to talk to you about.

Tomorrow, we'll see.