I find myself writing this on a sleepless night. On the edge of the mountains, staring into blank space. I often see myself making the same mistakes over and over again. I often see myself in love with the same person through the years. Just that his name seems to have changed, or his features seem to have altered a bit. I still seem to want to hold on, and he still seems to want to let go. Love is a strange concoction of emotions. On days one feels intoxicated with the idea of having met the one, or if there is a concept of the one. The heady feeling of falling into a tumble, reaching a peak and probably just downhill from there. Or is it my naivete to be calling it love?
But come to think of it, why wouldn't you want to let the moment stand a while? If ever there was a moment of standing still and breathing in. Why wouldn't we just inhale? Why the rush to put labels on everything that seems to float by? Or seems to have fallen into our laps. Not that I haven't consistently struggled to let it flow past. But on moments such as these, on nights such as this, I will leave him be. As a memory of a forgone letter that I hurriedly scribbled on the back of a book cover and forgot to give it to him. He stays mixed with ether, nibbling at the back of my head. Maybe all my past and present encounters and walk ins are derived from a patchwork of his battered and bizzare persona.
And yet tonight I will probably just leave him be. Tonight as I sit staring across at the vast expanse of mountains, I will leave him in the confines of his crowded life. Among his myriad spreadsheets, his friends and acquaintances, his cravings and his passions. I will leave him to wake up one fine day, and think of me with a fond smile or a wishful thought. I will leave him to look for me in the pages of my favorite book or among the words of my long lost letter. I will leave him to remember me by the sound of my unspoken name.
But come to think of it, why wouldn't you want to let the moment stand a while? If ever there was a moment of standing still and breathing in. Why wouldn't we just inhale? Why the rush to put labels on everything that seems to float by? Or seems to have fallen into our laps. Not that I haven't consistently struggled to let it flow past. But on moments such as these, on nights such as this, I will leave him be. As a memory of a forgone letter that I hurriedly scribbled on the back of a book cover and forgot to give it to him. He stays mixed with ether, nibbling at the back of my head. Maybe all my past and present encounters and walk ins are derived from a patchwork of his battered and bizzare persona.
And yet tonight I will probably just leave him be. Tonight as I sit staring across at the vast expanse of mountains, I will leave him in the confines of his crowded life. Among his myriad spreadsheets, his friends and acquaintances, his cravings and his passions. I will leave him to wake up one fine day, and think of me with a fond smile or a wishful thought. I will leave him to look for me in the pages of my favorite book or among the words of my long lost letter. I will leave him to remember me by the sound of my unspoken name.
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