April 5, 2003
German just Complicates It
You know what I think is beautiful? Both pairs of our glasses laid out in an almost identical fashion on his bathroom sink. I slipped a note underneath of his before I left for orientation this morning. Needless to say, the content of said note was both unsuitable and irreverent.
I drove an entire tank of gas out of my car today, and feel about as weary as that vehicle must. Yet, now that I have finally reached that bed which was so difficult to leave at seven o'clock this morning, I cannot lay back down in it. Not without him.
Maybe someday.
I laugh at all of this. It's more of a laughing/cringing motion, which ends up looking a bit more like a seizure than a standard reaction to sharpening feelings. Question: I know that my heart is dragging me steadily forward, but is his?
I think about living with him, and I think that it won't happen. I think that I'll just keep staying the night, and eventually my collection of things at his house will alert him to the severity of the situation and he will send them, and I, packing. Perhaps in the same bag.
You think, he cannot love you like that. I think the same thing. I see his love in so many subtle motions, but I hear his words, too. I know his fears, I know he is waiting for something to go wrong. He said once that things were just too good.
Normally, that would thrill me.
But it doesn't. It just means that things could go wrong.
"I'm going to say something, and I don't want you to take it the wrong way or get freaked out."
A nod. I'm nearing his lap as I speak.
"Honestly, I don't want to get married unless it is to someone like you, or you."
In my head it was the other way around, maybe without that 'someone like you' bit at all, but I must spare some of my honesty for my heart alone.
Mike smiles and wraps his arms around me.
"Does that scare you?"
He shakes his head, that strange-severe look having crept suddenly over his face.
"No, I think it's cute."
Cute. Like something one admires for its insubstantial nature. Something fleeting. A child of an idea that will never truly blossom into adulthood.
The seeds have only been planted in my mind. I'll never forget it.
"Das est neidlich."
astera at 8:15 p.m.