this isn't a game; this is real life.
my life, your life... between us the life we've made. if only I could be sure (even hopeful, even foolishly optimistic) that you'd see it that way too.
in the bubble we inhabit, everything has changed and you don't have a clue.
before I knew for sure it was easy to pretend, to practice, to imagine; now, with the blue slip in my hand and a million things to do to prepare and the prospect of actually speaking the words out loud to you I am...
humbled. scared. sorry.
sorry that I am full of joy at the prospect of creating life, while you will be in mourning for what feels like the loss of yours. while the words I say and the truth behind them will be the reason for the feeling.
I wanted to give it all to you, I hope you know I never meant to take anything away.
in these words I seek catharsis but I cannot use them to elude the fact that I have an impossible message to deliver and the ticking of the clock, louder than ever now, pushes me relentlessly forward.
that I loved you was never in question, that I know you? even less. that's what makes the telling so unbearably difficult. there is nothing I can do to cushion the blow, no way to sugar coat, to spin, to explain.
the truth is inexorable, and for once my words will be no solace to anyone.
though my perspective has changed completely in the last week, yours will be as small as ever. how petty I'll have to look to you, how desperate. if only you could crawl inside my head, my heart, my body, and feel the light that radiates from every cell.
if only you could see how much bigger this is than me... than you.
if only.
my life, your life... between us the life we've made. if only I could be sure (even hopeful, even foolishly optimistic) that you'd see it that way too.
in the bubble we inhabit, everything has changed and you don't have a clue.
before I knew for sure it was easy to pretend, to practice, to imagine; now, with the blue slip in my hand and a million things to do to prepare and the prospect of actually speaking the words out loud to you I am...
humbled. scared. sorry.
sorry that I am full of joy at the prospect of creating life, while you will be in mourning for what feels like the loss of yours. while the words I say and the truth behind them will be the reason for the feeling.
I wanted to give it all to you, I hope you know I never meant to take anything away.
in these words I seek catharsis but I cannot use them to elude the fact that I have an impossible message to deliver and the ticking of the clock, louder than ever now, pushes me relentlessly forward.
that I loved you was never in question, that I know you? even less. that's what makes the telling so unbearably difficult. there is nothing I can do to cushion the blow, no way to sugar coat, to spin, to explain.
the truth is inexorable, and for once my words will be no solace to anyone.
though my perspective has changed completely in the last week, yours will be as small as ever. how petty I'll have to look to you, how desperate. if only you could crawl inside my head, my heart, my body, and feel the light that radiates from every cell.
if only you could see how much bigger this is than me... than you.
if only.
