Di·chot·o·my:
A division or contrast between two things that are represented as being opposed or entirely different.
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| A photo I took of my friend Morgan. |
A separation between realities. A contrast.
Black and white.
Me and everything I want in life.
An intersection.
Him and I.
In a letter, he ended with something along the lines of, "keep smiling, my friend."
And I cried because I had failed again. With him, I failed.
It hurt, but I got over it. I remembered those words. I moved on. And life got better, until then, it didn't. Somehow my heart was still wounded by the sound of his name.
I put my anger into words and I wrote a book, but I couldn't finish it because I didn't see the end. And I remembered God saying, "I promised you this one."
I promised you this . . . I promised you this.
But maybe he didn't.
On good days, I forget about him. On better days, I remember every detail of his face. And on days like this, I beg for amnesia.
It's usually in my frustration when I gradually remember words from a book I've read:
I realize that I am deeper in this than I would like to be.
An intersection.
Him and I.
In a letter, he ended with something along the lines of, "keep smiling, my friend."
And I cried because I had failed again. With him, I failed.
It hurt, but I got over it. I remembered those words. I moved on. And life got better, until then, it didn't. Somehow my heart was still wounded by the sound of his name.
I put my anger into words and I wrote a book, but I couldn't finish it because I didn't see the end. And I remembered God saying, "I promised you this one."
I promised you this . . . I promised you this.
But maybe he didn't.
On good days, I forget about him. On better days, I remember every detail of his face. And on days like this, I beg for amnesia.
It's usually in my frustration when I gradually remember words from a book I've read:
The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. Maybe they always have been and will be. Maybe we've lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we've found each other. And maybe each time, we've been forced apart for the same reasons. That means that this goodbye is both a goodbye for the past ten thousand years and a prelude to what will come.
I realize that I am deeper in this than I would like to be.
We were a story.
Your smile and your quirkiness were an abundance of words tattooed on my heart.
But I'd freely give it all if I could delete you from my hard drive.
*takes deep breath*
I did this to myself. I'm living in my own dichotomy.
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