OK, I admit it…When you showed me a letter you posted almost exactly a year ago, my heart just broke. You were so in love, so overwhelmed with happiness, ready to give your everything to him, and then that bastard just tossed you away, decided he could do better somewhere else. I can just imagine you crumbling, breaking into a thousand miserable pieces, uncomprehending but feeling every stab deep into your soul.
Sabrina, you are such a precious soul. I’ve known you for only a short time, but even I can see the hurt in you. When you catch me looking at you (which I do too much, I know, I’m like a puppy in love), I see you pull back every time, your eyes guarded, until you almost consciously relax and force yourself to smile back. I wish I knew how to get inside your heard and prove to you that I won’t hurt you, that I only want to hold you and stroke you and kiss you and push all the pain out.
What scares me the most is that I’m saying the same things, making the same promises that other jerk did. We’re having the same conversations, whispering the same words. Will you believe them when you hear them from me? Or will you hear the echoes of previous hurts, previous lies, and hide behind the wall you’ve built to protect yourself from exactly that? It scares me even more to realize that someone else once felt the same way about you as I do, and it all came crashing down. What guarantees do we have that it might not happen to us too? I don’t think I could live with myself if I ever caused you the slightest bit of harm or ever brought a single tear to your eyes.
We’re both damaged goods right now, huh? When I left my previous life, you were right there to give me a hug and talk on the phone all night, even though we barely know each other then. When I should have been crying alone in my dark room, you were there holding me, making me smile, kissing my face, my arms, my belly. I’m nowhere near healed yet, that’s going to take a long, long time, but it was your voice, your hand, your eyes that pulled me through the darkest parts. Neither of us quite trust what’s happening to us right now, but I hope you realize as much as I do how special this is, how unusual, how we have to cherish and nurture it. Very few people are given the gift we’ve been given, and I want to share it with you forever. Yah, we’ll probably keep analyzing it to death, questioning everything, but let’s just make sure we do it together, ‘kay?
I’ve decided that in an effort to save up for a new laptop over winter break that I’m going to stop shopping for superfluous things like clothes. I have more than enough and I should use the money I’m bleeding out on something I really need and want - a new computer.
I, being in my sound mind, electronically sign this.
"IF you really read the fairy-tales, you will observe that one idea runs from one end of them to the other—the idea that peace and happiness can only exist on some condition. This idea, which is the core of ethics, is the core of the nursery-tales. The whole happiness of fairyland hangs upon a thread, upon one thread."
And you wait, keep waiting for that one thing which would infinitely enrich your life: the powerful, uniquely uncommon, the awakening of dormant stones, depths that would reveal you to yourself. In the dusk you notice the book shelves with their volumes in gold and in brown; and you think of far lands you journeyed, of pictures and of shimmering gowns worn by women you conquered and lost. And it comes to you all of a sudden: That was it! And you arise, for you are aware of a year in your distant past with its fears and events and prayers. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~
I’ve always enjoyed baking. For me, the epitome of the weekend is to start the day with freshly baked scones, hot coffee or tea and maybe even some classical in the background. (No, I’m not 43 years old)
Today, I have my scones, my coffee, my music and Wuthering Heights to keep me company before work. Not a bad way to spend a morning.