she told me, son, fear is the heart of love

"true love means never having to say you're sorry."
or so the saying goes.

if heaven and hell decide
that they both are satisfied
illuminate the "no"s on their vacancy signs
if there's no one beside you
when your soul embarks
then i'll follow you into the dark
-death cab

"you're beautiful" is all he could muster. fatigued and frustrated, he forced himself to believe that it culminated everything that they couldn't articulate. it was as if they had said everything through the unspoken, through the nuances in expression that only they could understand and the swift, imperceptible brushes of arms and hands. her smile communicated more than she could say, even when asked point blank. she knew that she could speak, if she could simply sit down and think it through, that she could speak eloquently. but every time she tried, it was choked back by blatant, inconvenient fear. surely, they could pull it together enough to simply say what they meant, but it couldn't be done. it was too difficult, too painful to explore it, so they remained reserved. she had to avoid verbalizing what she really meant, because it contradicted who she was and what she wanted to be. and he never wanted that for her. so they chose to bury the words, even to pretend that they couldn't find them. but in the midst of collapse, of compromise, it was clear. so clear, as if they were screaming the words in each others' faces but in a language only they understood.

"i think you're beautiful." it was a language anybody could understand, on any level they wanted. within it, everything unsaid dissipated. she knew, absolutely, that it encompassed everything they meant, everything she had hoped to say but could only say in silences, in awkward pauses, in all the nonsensical, ambiguous facial expressions she conjured. her response: a sincere, authoritative kiss and a coy smile. "maybe." the air around them was potent with "maybe." it was as precise as it could be.

"maybe."

is that all right, is that all right, is that all right with you?

"here's lookin' at you, kid."
or so the saying goes.

gilgamesh had enkidu. orestes had pylades. david had jonathan.
and joy? well.
once upon a time, joy met layce.

"Because we have a moment here, let me tell you that I have recently become a secret connoisseur of 'last looks'. You know the way people look at you when they believe it's for the last time? I've started collecting these looks. "
-drew, elizabethtown


there is no good way of saying it, of ever saying goodbye. i thought having this semester off would prepare me, but it all happened so fast - much faster than i thought it would. "you're my best friend, and i don't know how to express how much i will miss you. deeply. unequivocally. immeasurably." i wanted to say it, but i couldn't. it was too much. too many last looks in one day. "i love you, but i don't know how to do anything about it. i'm stuck, within myself and all the things i want." a combination of liberation and the stifling boundaries of being stuck inside the desire for something bigger, something more, and the hope that today, or any day, what we want will line up again. i love you, more than you could ever understand, but merely saying the words isn't enough. if i love you this much, why would i ever leave? they say that when you have this, if you're smart, you'll never let it go. i try not to think of it that way. i try to hold onto the hope that we let each other go because it's unselfish. because it's what you do if it really is love. i'm only sorry it took 20 years to find you, and 21 to love you and everything you contribute to my life. it seemed too long, and i hope you know that, despite it all, knowing you made that pain worth it. we both know that if it hadn't hurt that much, you and i wouldn't exist. i wish you'd been there to see it happen: the ups and downs, and the almost unnatural cruelty of extracting him. i always thought that extraction of him would lead to a different, better him, but it led me to you instead. despite my complaining, i ask myself always, what would i do without you? all the years of not being picked finally led me to you. you, the one who takes my side. flannery said that a good man is hard to find. and he is, but i've met good men. but a woman like you, a good friend like you, someone who is as consistent as you. you're the kind of person that takes 20 years to find. i know, because i've looked.

the results are in...

"when God closes a door, He opens a window."
or so the saying goes.

...and starting this summer, i will be residing in taiwan as an esl teacher for 1 whole year!

to those i love, i will miss you tremendously.

i'll tell you straight up...

"son, you'd better check yo'self before you wreck yo'self."
or so the saying goes.

i am spontaneously and inexplicably growing balls all over the place lately, even in the most awkward and borderline inappropriate situations. maybe it's because i really don't think i have anything to lose anymore. only took 4 some-odd years.

but i like it. honesty is liberating. watch yourself; you're probably next.

i'm gonna miss you, like i miss the ocean when i go to sleep, man it's gonna break my heart - mason jennings

"the first cut is the deepest."
or so the saying goes.

today's predominant topic of conversation was a reflection of the difficulty of finding truly faithful people. nobody's perfect, but i've realized how much i've come to accept a second-string role. not that acceptance doesn't frustrate me at times. i'm simply well-acquainted with the concept of other people getting picked over me. i think i can be a good friend, but i do realize that i become increasingly apathetic when i start to notice a few patterns. things like: not getting a phone call, making plans and having them broken for other people (unless it's the queen of england, this really shouldn't happen, and even then, you might want to ask if your friend can come along), consistently having others picked before me, or general boredom. yes, even in college, it turns out that some social constructs really never change.

my mom always used to tell me that i should feel lucky if i can find one truly faithful person who will always, no matter what, pick me first. she said a good way to conceptualize this is to imagine every person i know has won an amazing, all-expense paid trip to hawaii, but can only take one person. who do i think they'd pick? if i think it would be me, there's my answer. the disheartening truth is, however, that one of those people is moving away in about two weeks. i've said it once, twice, a dozen times, and i'll reiterate: i'm absolutely not okay with it. i'm going to feel a profound void when she's gone. she's my ally. my solution for today, however, is to live in denial.

i've usually been an advocate of many chances. and i know as well as anyone that nobody's perfect. but i'm finding that as school begins to fade away, i need to be more selective about some of the people in my life. not selective about who i should treat with kindness. that's everyone. or about who i should see, because i will see or spend time with a variety of people. but about who i feel is worth my genuine effort. about what i say. and about surrounding myself with people who encourage, edify, and challenge me. those people are difficult to find, but they are worth more than 10 of those who make me feel anxious or insecure.