I am restless. I am acutely aware that all good things end and having an awful time trying to forget this.
I am certain that good people do bad things. (“Good” people. “Bad” things.) and so I have a hard time believing this will be any different. Maybe that is not the point though.
For all the bad there was with M, there was so much good. I won’t change it for anything in the world. The happiest days of my life were in Greece.
I should note that this is just one data point. Data point is generous. It’s really an anecdote from memory, reconstructed each time it is played. But it shoots down the street like a blaring ambulance and drowns out every conversation. I know you were good, and I know you were bad. And I know you are just a human. So I can’t really be mad. I know this pain is inevitable and any and all time I have spent avoiding it does not serve me. There is no good in the world without bad.
But my mind does not like reason. My mind likes memory. I tend to the rug and the way it was pulled out from under my chair like a farmer raising their crops. I am meticulous in my routine.
I wonder if you think of me at all. I certainly do of you. It’s fleeting and probably my stubborn memory more than anything else.
It seems ridiculous to me that you could know someone so well and love them so entirely and unconditionally and still lose them in this world. So we are all just trusting our hearts to individuals we will likely lose. That seems beserk
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