Only a part of a lost letter
Here's what's on my mind tonight. I don't think this is even the entire lost letter, but it's a start...and it's what I feel like pouring out.
Ya know...for some reason, tonight, my mind drifted back to that night. The night we heard. The night you said you loved me, and the night I first kissed you. On the cheek. Too timid, and respectful, to do anything else, and too insecure and immature to know how to better express it. Perhaps, though, it was maturity after all...actions speaking louder than words.
I remember how absolutely joyful we were. How we kept finding really lame excuses to touch or hug or be close to each other, up in what would eventually become the dining room of my parents' then-under-construction house.
My mind drifts back to this, and in my ears lilt a song from a video game, one generally emoting hopelessness, emptiness, sadness, or loss. I don't think I had before, or have since, ever felt such incredible joy as when I heard that I was the one for you...your beloved. Nothing I've experienced since, that I can think of, compares with it.
Perhaps someday I'll understand why such incredible joy, only found through Him, has never been enough impetus, enough of a treasure, that I'd sell everything I own and buy its field. That I'd commit myself completely, without reservation or hesitation. Perhaps someday I'll know what I'm really looking for, what I'm really waiting for...and what it was that was answered that night that our future together began...only a few months before it ended.
These days we have almost nothing left of that. Our conversations feel faint and distant, cold and without depth. As if neither of us wants to let go of the friendship that we have...or had...but neither of us really know what to make of it now. Now that it's so strained. Now that everything is so far away. Now that our lives have led us back to the great distances that separated us even in those early days. The distance we once committed to overcome...that now feels like it has overcome us. Even to the point where I'm barely sure if I could call you friend anymore, not because I'm angry or hurt or bitter, but because I feel as if I don't know you. And as if you don't know me.
I've spent very little time trying to figure out, trying to balance and justify, what we heard that night and what ended up being the case. A few ideas and suggestions have come up, and a few explanations exist, but I don't seem to care. I don't seem to work through it because it's so far away now that I'm hardly even sure, most of the time, that there's anything to work through. And even if there was, I feel I'd be doing it alone...you dealt with much of it long ago, and it's history to you now. Or so it appears from here.
Not like I give you much chance to prove me wrong.
In some ways I wonder if our personalities, which seemed to click in some very important ways before, when we had something real and vital to each other to fight for, are what now keep us apart. My tendency to be focused on what's in front of me, and my tendency to share from the mind more than from the heart...your tendency to be a problem-solver. It's not often I can talk to you and feel like we're being together...so often it feels more like I'm a project, or a broken item you're trying to fix.
It doesn't matter. The reasons, the excuses, the explanations, none of them matter. Just as whatever pathetic attempts at justification and rationalization I make for why I'm so distant from God lately, none of it matters, because in the end it comes down to what we DO.
...or don't do.
Ya know...for some reason, tonight, my mind drifted back to that night. The night we heard. The night you said you loved me, and the night I first kissed you. On the cheek. Too timid, and respectful, to do anything else, and too insecure and immature to know how to better express it. Perhaps, though, it was maturity after all...actions speaking louder than words.
I remember how absolutely joyful we were. How we kept finding really lame excuses to touch or hug or be close to each other, up in what would eventually become the dining room of my parents' then-under-construction house.
My mind drifts back to this, and in my ears lilt a song from a video game, one generally emoting hopelessness, emptiness, sadness, or loss. I don't think I had before, or have since, ever felt such incredible joy as when I heard that I was the one for you...your beloved. Nothing I've experienced since, that I can think of, compares with it.
Perhaps someday I'll understand why such incredible joy, only found through Him, has never been enough impetus, enough of a treasure, that I'd sell everything I own and buy its field. That I'd commit myself completely, without reservation or hesitation. Perhaps someday I'll know what I'm really looking for, what I'm really waiting for...and what it was that was answered that night that our future together began...only a few months before it ended.
These days we have almost nothing left of that. Our conversations feel faint and distant, cold and without depth. As if neither of us wants to let go of the friendship that we have...or had...but neither of us really know what to make of it now. Now that it's so strained. Now that everything is so far away. Now that our lives have led us back to the great distances that separated us even in those early days. The distance we once committed to overcome...that now feels like it has overcome us. Even to the point where I'm barely sure if I could call you friend anymore, not because I'm angry or hurt or bitter, but because I feel as if I don't know you. And as if you don't know me.
I've spent very little time trying to figure out, trying to balance and justify, what we heard that night and what ended up being the case. A few ideas and suggestions have come up, and a few explanations exist, but I don't seem to care. I don't seem to work through it because it's so far away now that I'm hardly even sure, most of the time, that there's anything to work through. And even if there was, I feel I'd be doing it alone...you dealt with much of it long ago, and it's history to you now. Or so it appears from here.
Not like I give you much chance to prove me wrong.
In some ways I wonder if our personalities, which seemed to click in some very important ways before, when we had something real and vital to each other to fight for, are what now keep us apart. My tendency to be focused on what's in front of me, and my tendency to share from the mind more than from the heart...your tendency to be a problem-solver. It's not often I can talk to you and feel like we're being together...so often it feels more like I'm a project, or a broken item you're trying to fix.
It doesn't matter. The reasons, the excuses, the explanations, none of them matter. Just as whatever pathetic attempts at justification and rationalization I make for why I'm so distant from God lately, none of it matters, because in the end it comes down to what we DO.
...or don't do.