From the Diary of Elizabeth Jackson Date: _____________
__________________
Realizations. For both of you.
My thoughts today are nothing new. I am not the most important thing in your life. I am not even the second most important thing in your life. The hopeless romantics of the world would demand that I leave, that I sever all ties and find "that one" who will worship me. I have my moments when I wonder if I should.
And then I remember I do not want to be worshipped. I do not want your undying, abjectly devoted attention. I am okay being a constant. I am okay being here, the rock, or the island, or what have you. It is, by nature, a lonely choice, but when we speak, I do not feel alone.
Perhaps I am choosing to make my own tragic bed. Perhaps one day, when some hapless historian stumbles upon my journals (yes, I am rather full of myself) there will be a movie made of the undying sacrifice of love. If that movie is made, I pray that our ghosts will come down and curse the set. I do not sacrifice anything. I make choices and I am fully aware of what these choices mean. I appreciate that our time will be defined not in moments of romance but when our hands touch while we talk and in our late night phone calls. For you, my other, hapless lover, I appreciate that you are bound by codes of honor that I will never understand. I do not like your priorities and it is why we are not together at the moment, but I do not need for you to drop your world and come into mine. Truthfully, I do not know if you will ever be happy here. Neither of you, truthfully, will be happy here. You are creatures of the world in DC and I have adapted to a life of dust and jalapenos in every meal.
How tragic I sound. Writing this love story to the two parts of my heart. I do not lie to myself. If I could have my way, things would be vastly different. In my head and heart, I dream of coming into the house and finding you there waiting for me. But dreams are only more powerful because they have such a slim chance of coming true. I have made my choices and those choices, believe it or not, do warm my heart. Because I know that when my phone beeps and it is you, I am for a moment a priority for you. I know that you do care, both of you. We are separated by place, not by our hearts.
At least, that is how it is in the light of today.
Realizations. For both of you.
My thoughts today are nothing new. I am not the most important thing in your life. I am not even the second most important thing in your life. The hopeless romantics of the world would demand that I leave, that I sever all ties and find "that one" who will worship me. I have my moments when I wonder if I should.
And then I remember I do not want to be worshipped. I do not want your undying, abjectly devoted attention. I am okay being a constant. I am okay being here, the rock, or the island, or what have you. It is, by nature, a lonely choice, but when we speak, I do not feel alone.
Perhaps I am choosing to make my own tragic bed. Perhaps one day, when some hapless historian stumbles upon my journals (yes, I am rather full of myself) there will be a movie made of the undying sacrifice of love. If that movie is made, I pray that our ghosts will come down and curse the set. I do not sacrifice anything. I make choices and I am fully aware of what these choices mean. I appreciate that our time will be defined not in moments of romance but when our hands touch while we talk and in our late night phone calls. For you, my other, hapless lover, I appreciate that you are bound by codes of honor that I will never understand. I do not like your priorities and it is why we are not together at the moment, but I do not need for you to drop your world and come into mine. Truthfully, I do not know if you will ever be happy here. Neither of you, truthfully, will be happy here. You are creatures of the world in DC and I have adapted to a life of dust and jalapenos in every meal.
How tragic I sound. Writing this love story to the two parts of my heart. I do not lie to myself. If I could have my way, things would be vastly different. In my head and heart, I dream of coming into the house and finding you there waiting for me. But dreams are only more powerful because they have such a slim chance of coming true. I have made my choices and those choices, believe it or not, do warm my heart. Because I know that when my phone beeps and it is you, I am for a moment a priority for you. I know that you do care, both of you. We are separated by place, not by our hearts.
At least, that is how it is in the light of today.