drought to death

there has been communication. and i am pleased.

pleased is not the same as happy, but its not the same as sad either.

its like resignation. because some things cannot be changed, no matter how one tries.

and some things, just cannot happen. because sometimes, lives don't line up. and they just never will.

and the pain is real, and the loss is a void that can't be covered over.

but maybe time mellows the crater.

maybe erosion grinds it down until its another feature of your landscape. its a texture that you'll forever maintain, but that isn't the entirety of you.

maybe its like my friend's thesis seems to say. the crater becomes a story about a crater, and so long as we have tongues to speak and ears to listen, we can tell the story until it becomes how we understand our lives, and our selves.

and it has nothing to do with how much we love someone. and it doesn't mean we lose our ability to love either.

it is the loss of a memory of a thing that never quite happened.

but in turn, that doesn't mean it was never real.

so because it needs to be said:

joseph.

i loved you, like i have not loved anyone since. and i can't know what i would have done had things been different, but i would have wanted to shoulder your pain as my own, if it would have helped you. i would have cried every tear you were ever unable to shed, if it would have helped you sleep at night. i might have done it anyway. i might still do it now, because i don't really know how not to.

i would have left you alone, as you wanted. i would have vanished from your life, if it would have let your mind rest. i would have kept all my own selfish feelings, my own desires, and my own covetousness, secret from you. i would have been nothing but the perfect platonic friend, and worn my anguish alone, when you weren't there, and where you couldn't find it. i would have let you keep me or discard me, as you saw fit, if it were how i could help you most.

i wouldn't have wanted to. but i would have tried. and i did try.

and i'm lying. because i wouldn't have been able to stay away. the thought of your losses, makes me immediately want to hold you until you're magically better; until life has not been as unkind and thoughtless as it seems to have been. all i want to do, when i read your story, is fix you. all i want to do is make you whole again.

and i can't. i can't do those things, and never could. they are not within my power. i wanted to heal you, so desperately... maybe because i thought if i could heal you, i would be worthy, or i would have somehow healed myself. or maybe because of selfishness; because i cannot stand to see you, or almost anyone, in pain.

the motivations, devolve into pop-psychology in my head. they become suspect, and a matter of my own conditioning. i am fucked up in a variety of little and sometimes not so little ways. physician, heal thyself! i know... i know.

i love you, and i loved you, and while my reasoning may have been, and might still be flawed, i swear to you upon everything, everything, everything, that all i wanted to do was love you as well as i ever could, and maybe, make your life, just a little bit happier.

i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, and i wish i could have helped you more.

and now, the moment has passed, and time has rumbled on and taken us with it. and now, it is too late. now i am finally ready to let you go, because you never held me, and i've only skulked around like a dog hoping for any scrap you might throw me. and i feel foolish. but i can't imagine playing it any different way. and you have returned, come back, and turned your tragedy into a story, and even now it is being further incorporated into your past.

and now, i will learn to say goodbye.

and learn how to put one foot in front of the other.

goodbye joseph.

goodbye.