How Far I've Gone—And How Far I Still Have To Go

There is no way the title will fit into the small amount of space the link allows. I am being verbose, as usual. And there is a certain satisfaction to that—to just typing, or saying, words without thinking about their meanings. I have been doing that a lot, muttering phrases over and over again not particularly because I believe in them, but because I like the way they sound in my mouth, the rhythm, the comforting fact that I am saying something and the sound is resonating in my ears.

For someone who is completely musically challenged, I do have such a fondness for rhythms, beats, and rhymes.

Something about today reminded me of Dray. I forgot why—and I don't think it has to matter. I just remembered the roller-coaster ride he pushed me into. I don't remember how many times I had said "I'm sorry" even though I knew deep down it was not my fault. All I had wanted was to be able to talk to someone about things I was afraid to say to anyone else, and what better person than someone who seemed to understand and yet would never assign these thoughts to a physical being?

If I had to apologize to get him to stay, then I would. I had thought I would. Do whatever it took.

But I am such a selfish person. I want to think that I can sacrifice everything for someone else, but that is not true. And it was just as well. He was not really worth my effort, and two years later, I had stopped constantly searching for his presence.

I am mentioning this now because I think I am tumbling into a similar kaleidoscopic frenzy. This time with someone who is much, much nicer—and sometimes, honestly, I wonder what he sees in me. What am I really like to the outside world? Am I presenting an over-idealized version of myself by hiding my cynical (thank you, Cynthia, for introducing me to the word) side with my smiles?

I don't ever want to let go.

I am afraid, plain and simple. I am afraid that if I let go, I will never be able to hold on again. I am holding his hand and I think to myself, "This is it. This is all I ever want." I am walking down the hall and I wonder if I would be willing to freeze time and preserve this moment for eternity, because I am afraid that if I stumble on, I will somehow through my clumsiness break that delicate bond we share. And I am very, very clumsy. Much too so.

But when you step over the limit, momentum will bring you onward even if you don't consciously forge ahead anymore. And I can't stop myself. I am falling. I don't know how long I can hold on now (not to mention I have almost nonexistent arm muscles). I don't know how long my eternity will last.

Here is where I freeze. I know all the words. Live in the moment. Loved and lost is better than never having loved at all. But the words are failing me. I am hearing them, somehow here, somehow there, and they do not make sense anymore. They are mere sounds in the background. Rhythms, beats, and rhymes.

I am tired now. Tired but oh so happy. So I want to go on, because I am afraid of lingering behind and eventually being forgotten. I want to go on, wherever this may take me.

Do I have what it takes?

Does it even matter?

Especially because of all things, I should not be afraid of the prospect of a broken heart anymore. Not me, not anymore. Not here, not now, not ever.

Because I still have so much more to go.