Our brief love.

I hate sleep. I don't get nearly enough and when I do, I just dream about Graham. And then I wake up and feel like shit for two hours, until Mad Men puts me back to sleep. And really, Don Draper's cheating shenanigans do not pacify me at all. 

I called him this morning. I just can't accept the silence or the defeat. It's such a unfortunate/fortunate aspect of my character. I just can't let a dead horse lie...er, lay? I've done this before...the back-pedaling, the apologizing, and then I make up some new terms to the relationship and hope for the best, tightly crossing my fingers and toes. 

I know this is naive, but I at least wanted to try the enhanced long-distance with him. I wanted to say that we tried everything. I want to put the bad parts behind us and really begin anew, with full trust and a super abundance of love. I want to be overwhelmed with love. And forgiving. And trust that we will be together when we can, and even be together when we can't. We stopped saying I love you's months ago, I think we feared that vulnerability. We had to harden our hearts, look away more, and distance ourselves from this fast-approaching future. 

But if we could start again, re-commit ourselves to the fullest, most passionate love-affair ever, I would give it a try. Be as open as we were at 22.

When he left me last Wednesday, we parted with "See you soon." I watched him leave. Then I stood in the guest room, where we'd lived, slept, laughed, and loved. I was alone again. With only 2 cups, 2 forks, cake containers, bag of Cheetos, his towel,...the reminders of what was, who left just a few minutes ago. Taking so much of my happiness with him. Our brief love. Saying "See you soon," and I returned with "See you later, alligator," that's the most that our future ever extended. And at this point, I'll take that.