... and cherish every moment we're in denial.
So you're going. I told myself that even if you went, I'd be happy for you. That is a place where you can become closer to our God. That is a place where you can learn his great majesty and truth. Even if they don't teach you the real fullness of it. You go and our relationship will strain. You go and I may lose you forever. You go and I will have to trust Him to take care of you. I already do, but... why? Why does this have to happen?
"What's up? You look sad."
Ah, you know me too well. That tends to happen after being in love with someone for over two and a half years. You can tell the difference, even when they're lying to you.
"No, no. I'm just tired." I reply, glancing at the clock. "... and my period pain. It's playing up again."
"Oh, ok."
Perhaps, sometimes you can't tell the difference.
"I'm fine, Bubba." I give you a sleepy smile and a kiss.
It's nothing, I'm just losing you. That's only the sound of my heart slowly breaking, if it's not already broken. Why do I have to love you so much?
Maybe the it's time to begin cataloging the details, for later, for when I don't have you to kiss me, to hug me, to tell me I'm beautiful even when I don't want to hear it. Maybe I should start remembering the way your hair settles into perfect locks, or exactly where it tends to grow longer at your neck and above your ears than everywhere else. Or the way your right eye droops slightly when you smile. Or the way you don't like smiling in photos. It's not that you're not happy to be with me, it's because you're self conscious when you smile. Or the way photos never do you justice. Or the way I love watching your far off expression when you exit the car, thinking about something, waiting for me to exit so you can turn the key. Or the way we fit together perfectly, my softness, your firmness when we relax and meld into one another. You give the most perfect hugs. Maybe I should start remembering the unique and beautiful way you smell whenever I inhale during a kiss. Maybe I should start remembering the exact way your hair feels, course between fingers. Maybe I should start remembering the different tones of voice you use when you tell me you love me. Or the way your chest feels under my cheek. Or the sound of your heart when it beats. Or the way you try to please everybody, or the way you love your family, or the way you have always tried to please me. You slip up sometimes, but those mistakes are nothing, they're small. They don't compare to how much I love you. I love you, and I can't do this.
Blessed Mother. Lord. Be with me. Tell me what to do.
Is this it?
Should I fight? Should I try harder?
Should I give up?
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