Loml

There is nothing quite like having the world burn around you and still being inexplicably happy. There no part of my soul that is not fulfilled. I’ve caught my dreams and now that I have them, I know that no matter what I can catch them again. The respect and love that I’ve been shown in the last few months is maddening only in that it’s illuminated the amount of mind fuckery that’s kept me from it all these years. To be clear, fuck that.
But. This is beautiful. This man makes me smile all the way to my soul. In the most terrifying and frustrating moments of life we can still have sneak attacks surprises and find the silliness that I’ve been so quick to burry over the years. I have the most complete explicit trust, and it goes both ways. He’s uprooting his life to be closer to me, and I’m so ready to return the favor.
Years ago, without even knowing who I was writing about (or without acknowledging it) I wrote a character in a show that’s taken my to all the places I dreamed of. I’ve gotten to perform on battlefields and national memorials where Broadway companies tour. It’s time for me to revisit that show, to edit it for the more mature performer I’ve become. There are some things that won’t change though- some things that I think I’ve only recently understood the truth of.
“If you go- I go.”
I don’t care if it’s a camp as part of Lees campaign through New Jersey or to a pandemic torn district of our nation. It’s more true now than ever before.
I’ll be the Betsey Nicholas to his Edmund Randolph, managing a household with the advice of crazy aunt Betty. I’m so unbelievably happy.
For the first time in my life, it’s my whole heart I can give without fear or trepidation.
I’m yours, forever.
Your my loml.
Always have been, always will be.

Circumstantial Heartbreak

I've had my heart broken maybe twice.  I'm not sure if one counts, because it was the actions and not the person who did it.  By the time it happened, I was thoroughly out of love and it was the shock of betrayal that did me in.  The first time, it hurt the most because it seemed so intentional.  It was nice to have someone to blame entirely, someone to cast in the role of the villain.  These two hurts I have carried with me for years, a talisman I've used to ward people away from my heart.  It's worked, three times over. Until now.
Now I've let go and begun to re-imagine what it could be like to give my heart away.  Without preserving a part of it in memorial, the whole thing of one piece- bruises and all.  And when I began to trust, to give up my surety, my memory of hurt, I fully understood that my heart thus given could break again.  I knew I was handing it away, and I thought I saw the danger in that.
And yet, this is a hazard I never saw.  No person is breaking my heart.  The events, the circumstances, the plain unfairness of the loss of something I never even had is.  The worst part, the salt in the wound is the fact that I'm not the only one hurting.  That maybe, my encouragements made it worse for both of us in the end.  And that there is nothing that either of us can do to make it any better.
So here I am.  Crying on my way home from a love scene written by the king of romance, the bard himself who has given me the most poetically beautiful words to say.  Weeping because all I want in the world is my very own Ferdinand and instead I'm going home to drink water, snuggle my cat, read Jane until I can drift into the safety of unconsciousness. Wondering why I can't bring this emotion when called for, and instead save it for the moment that it will do nothing more than make the road in front of the car into a watery blur.
Knowing that we both need time to process, knowing that talking about it makes it worse-but still wishing that I could curl up in the very arms that I am denied is the worst part of the affair.  Who, in my life, can ever understand this frustration?  I don't have that community of common knowledge, the tag rag and bobtail group of compatriots who will give a shoulder to lean on.
Instead I affirm to myself that this will pass.  That I will wake up, a little broken but still knowing that we two are continuing forward as we must to meet our common goal.  That someday I'll laugh about this, or worse-when the exact reverse happens I'll bemoan the time that they denied the thing that I will then be so dreading.  That tomorrow will hold new opportunities, and that there is a reason that this avenue is closed.
I have my love. He has my heart, it's a little more battered by I entrust it to him wholly.  I know now with certainty what I've often wondered in the past, and know more about the past itself than I ever hoped to understand.  I have every reason to believe that this is one small valley in a long journey full of mountains.
But this sucks.  Here and now, this fucking sucks.