Hysteria
Here I am in a motel room in Texas sipping a fairly bland tasting Seagram's Bahama Mama cooler, and feeling pretty cozy, pretty nice. I am working a contract with the Army, deploying PCs at Fort Hood for my company. It is giving me headaches, this contract, but I'll get by.
I'll get by, because I have somebody waiting for me back home. A woman. A very lovely woman. Who is in love with me. As I am with her. A lovely woman who loves me.
Seriously. Not, like, my roommate, who loves me like a brother. Like loves me, like in all the old songs and poems. And she is my one and only.
Can I say that?-Who am I asking? Christ, I can't get over this. And I don't want to. I'm on this perepetual high where I can't stop grinning like an idiot. Everything feels right. Everything feels good.
I've spent my whole life being afraid of these kinds of feelings, thinking that for every up, there is a down. Things fall apart, everything comes tumbling down. But, now, I have no doubts. This is right and good. God's in his Heaven and all is right with the world.
I thought I was broken, that I was incapable of love, That I was scarred beyond repair. I was, apparently, wrong. I'm in love. Stupid amounts.
I sent her flowers, she sent me a card. We call each other "baby," "sweetie," "honey," "dear," "sugar." The whole nine yards. What is this? I mean, aside from fantastic.
This is wholly uncharacteristic for me, or so I thought. But, I welcome the change of perspective. It's very nice. Cleansing. Something pure. Something unspoilt.
I love you, Catie.
I'll get by, because I have somebody waiting for me back home. A woman. A very lovely woman. Who is in love with me. As I am with her. A lovely woman who loves me.
Seriously. Not, like, my roommate, who loves me like a brother. Like loves me, like in all the old songs and poems. And she is my one and only.
Can I say that?-Who am I asking? Christ, I can't get over this. And I don't want to. I'm on this perepetual high where I can't stop grinning like an idiot. Everything feels right. Everything feels good.
I've spent my whole life being afraid of these kinds of feelings, thinking that for every up, there is a down. Things fall apart, everything comes tumbling down. But, now, I have no doubts. This is right and good. God's in his Heaven and all is right with the world.
I thought I was broken, that I was incapable of love, That I was scarred beyond repair. I was, apparently, wrong. I'm in love. Stupid amounts.
I sent her flowers, she sent me a card. We call each other "baby," "sweetie," "honey," "dear," "sugar." The whole nine yards. What is this? I mean, aside from fantastic.
This is wholly uncharacteristic for me, or so I thought. But, I welcome the change of perspective. It's very nice. Cleansing. Something pure. Something unspoilt.
I love you, Catie.