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(x-posted in my personal journal) [Sep. 19th, 2004|02:16 pm]


I am the handshake after twenty long years of separation. Greeting you with a smile, I turn away after our brief exchange and laugh to myself. You thought things would be quite different? I knew they had to be this way, and I do not apologize.

I am the phone call in the middle of the night, awakening you from peaceful slumber to say hello. But our conversation is swallowed by the distance between us. There is no way for our words to break through the static. But isn’t this how it was from the beginning? I believe the answer is yes, and will accept that fact.

I am the fire inside of you that continues to burn, hoping that one day this masquerade will be over. But there is no room for feeling on this day. That notion left you long ago. And it’s just as well. There was never room for anything in our lives, and I will admit that.

I am the steady hand that guided you while everyone else laughed and pointed and mocked us. Do you remember? I don’t expect you would. The years passed by so quickly, and our time became so precious. We somehow lost touch and allowed everything unholy to rip us apart. And now I’m finally realizing the laughs and smiles were nothing more than a delicately crafted ruse I inflicted upon myself. I will deal with this.

I am the beautiful day you waited for. At least that’s what you always told me. But I never came. There were times I teased you a little - the glimpse of sunshine creeping around behind the clouds, the moment of clarity after the storm’s passing. Perhaps you simply expected too much. Please don’t hold yourself accountable. It could be no other way.

I am those love letters you hid beneath your bed and quietly read in the early hours of the morning, after the lights went down and you were all alone in your little cocoon of contrived safety. Don’t lie to me again. Those letters were nothing more than sheets of blank paper stained yellow with the passage of time. No words were written on them. The charades are over. Those letters never meant anything.

I am the long car ride home, the return to the beginning, the uphill journey toward nothing. What did you expect? Perhaps you were paralyzed by the emptiness you never quite escaped from. You’ll get used to this feeling. You’ll also grow content with it and possibly even embrace it. Loneliness. Emptiness. Disappointment. These are the three elements upon which success is based. Refuse to accept them, and you will crumble.

Perhaps we’ll meet again someday, two lonely characters in mankind’s greatest tragedy. We’ll sit down over a pint and talk for hours without saying anything at all. I’ll tell you how amazing my job is. You’ll speak of your family and three brilliant children with respect and adoration. Then we’ll laugh together and confess to each other how stupid we were to allow everything wonderful in our lives to dissolve away.

I must admit I do miss what we never had, and I’m sure there will be times when I sit down and look back on everything we never shared. These will be memories I speak of fondly, little soldiers marching across the synapses. But they will lose strength with time, decaying gradually as the years pass. And there will come a time when everything that meant nothing loses all meaning, and all those perfect moments we never shared fail to exist at all.