(no subject)
Margaret Atwood once said that her favorite word is ‘and’. ”So hopeful,” she said….
The word ‘and’, these three arbitrary letters strung together in such a fashion,
the most simple, and hopeful, and terrifying of things.
And leaves you waiting, leaves you unsure. And means that you thought you knew
the whole story, believed that you knew where you stood for a moment…
and you didn’t, not quite yet.
I love you, and I also love her. I love you, and I want to marry you.
I love you, and I can’t do this anymore.
I love you, and let’s run away together.
I love you, and actually, haha, this was all just a joke.
I love you, and let’s climb a tree, and let’s rob a bank, and let’s get matching tattoos, and let’s never speak again, and let’s swim naked in the ocean, and let’s get drunk and fuck and pretend it never happened, and let’s run through the streets and scream at the stars, and let’s make a baby, and let’s make dinner, and let’s share a bottle of wine, and let’s promise each other forever.
I love you, and sometimes love just isn’t enough.
There is more to come. The story is not over, it has yet to finish telling itself. And.
And what? The best, or worst, or most mundane thing you have yet to hear. But AND…
a pause…
You don’t know what is to come, it could change your whole world. I guess the same
could be said for the word ‘but’. Or ‘although’, or many other words.
But I don’t know that there are many words so small, with so much weight.
So much significance, so many possible implications. How it can go both ways.
The ambiguity of it, the question… And.
There is more to come.
This is not the end.
The word ‘and’, these three arbitrary letters strung together in such a fashion,
the most simple, and hopeful, and terrifying of things.
And leaves you waiting, leaves you unsure. And means that you thought you knew
the whole story, believed that you knew where you stood for a moment…
and you didn’t, not quite yet.
I love you, and I also love her. I love you, and I want to marry you.
I love you, and I can’t do this anymore.
I love you, and let’s run away together.
I love you, and actually, haha, this was all just a joke.
I love you, and let’s climb a tree, and let’s rob a bank, and let’s get matching tattoos, and let’s never speak again, and let’s swim naked in the ocean, and let’s get drunk and fuck and pretend it never happened, and let’s run through the streets and scream at the stars, and let’s make a baby, and let’s make dinner, and let’s share a bottle of wine, and let’s promise each other forever.
I love you, and sometimes love just isn’t enough.
There is more to come. The story is not over, it has yet to finish telling itself. And.
And what? The best, or worst, or most mundane thing you have yet to hear. But AND…
a pause…
You don’t know what is to come, it could change your whole world. I guess the same
could be said for the word ‘but’. Or ‘although’, or many other words.
But I don’t know that there are many words so small, with so much weight.
So much significance, so many possible implications. How it can go both ways.
The ambiguity of it, the question… And.
There is more to come.
This is not the end.