#darienwrites

I have been queasy for fourteen days. It starts in the pit of me- this sense of doom and worry. I can't function day to day, spend my whole life stressed (did I feed the cat, did I feed myself, you have so much to do and so little time to do it and you can't even bathe, you don't have a schedule- your face is breaking out. everything is all or nothing. You either win or you fail.) I miss when you looked at me like I was good enough.

in my head I craft you lovingly "he will be kind, with lots of stories to tell" it's taking a while but Momma said to be patient and this time apart- I use to imagine you the arch of your brow, the warmth in your eyes I know you won't be just the way I see you That's the best part I think- that you could be so very different from how I picture - that I will love you as you are.

It aches every time. I wonder when that swell of sorrow will rise, surely with time only dwelling on it will I feel so heavy. But it is instant each and every time. Some times, just hearing your voice is enough, some times it's not until you're right in front of me. That's the worst, when I delude myself into thinkin I was prepared for something that is inevitable. Maybe one day I'll out grow it. But it's easy to imagine that I'll still feel this way down the road. When have both grown old- just not together. At our weddings, will I let my eyes linger? We'll have kids, will we ever live close enough again- will they play and learn and grow together? I think we will have drifted apart by then. Maybe I'll see you when I'm prim and put together at forty. Maybe you'll be who I'm describing when I make up stories for my grandchildren. "He's a handsome man." I'll reassure them. "He'd look like a prince, if it weren't for the length of his hair and the glint of trouble in his eyes." Maybe once more, when we're old. I'd doubt that you got my letters. You're not a big reader, even less of a writer. You don't reply but you visit. Even then, it will hit me like lightning. I've always attempted to be in control- of who I am and how people see me. I often have failed, in regards to you especially. Around you, it feels like my heart gets broadcast across my face. It won't be the first time the thought of you will make me cry.

i remind myself to be patient. i'm still not sure what it is i'm waiting for- whether it's a sunday afternoon that doesn't dissolve into tears, or a high that lasts- but i grit my teeth and i bear the waiting. i try and show the world that i can be noble too