Realities

Beyond making plans, beyond the hypotheticals, lies reality. 

You skirt the issue, but I don't.  I say the words to you, but I don't think you hear them: "Let's not waste the good days."

I wake up early to enjoy the quiet, to sit and write, to try to gain some perspective on things. I know what I should do, but the fears and logistics prevent me from acting at this time.

I'll act eventually.  I get around to everything eventually.

You were there for the tumult of the last few weeks, but I still have my job through a corporate restructure.  You say you had no doubts.  I had plenty.  Now I worry for you, but your walls prevent me from being completely supportive.

"Just hearing your voice is enough," you say.  For me, it's the content of the conversation that holds meaning, and I just don't know what I should say. 

I'm demonstrative; I want people to know that I care.  I don't expect the affection in return.  I realize that's not my lot in life.

If we were together at this moment I would tell you that I find you incredibly intelligent, singularly focused, and so very dedicated, qualities that many people don't seem to possess.  You'll be fine.

As for the good days, well, they needed to be treated as the gift that they are.  Days where physical exertion doesn't come with a price.  Days when I wake up and feel 36 and not its inverse. Days when I can still be myself and know how my body will respond.  Nights where I could fall into someone's arms without a second thought.