Tonight's Poet Corner: Introspection
Tonight, I'm not going to belch out the usual ranting. I'm not going to go deep into thought or retrospect. I'm not even going to do a writer's quotation. I want to keep this simple, but I also want to make it potent.
For two years, starting with a plate of sushi, there has been a romance. For the most part, it's been very matter-of-fact. The biggest hurdle has been distance, but the relationship's been strong despite that, mostly due to pretty tight-knit communication and a constant reminder of the future. Since the day we decided to try this out, it has been a carousel of colors, adventures, questions, anxieties, hopes, dreams, patience, and of course love.
We dressed in tailcoat and gown together after our first year, enjoying a fancy Italian dinner with a full bottle of some of the best Riesling I ever had. We dropped by pubs to have pints and just talk. We ran rampant in San Francisco. Made cheesecake. Explored Cazadero. Cuddled by the Christmas tree. Endured one of us coming down with mono. Put up with long venting on the phone or on Skype. Sung together. Dressed up together. Created comics and stories together. Laughed together. Cried together. Held each other for hours without the need to do anything else. Even when we have usually been five hundred miles apart - and trust me, that will be changing soon - we have so many memories with each other to cherish. And that's amazing.
Looking back on the day I have just spent with her - a day of more Italian food and a second viewing of Wreck-It Ralph - I realize that two years ago, when we first kissed, I allowed her to choose what she wanted to do most. We fell for each other very fast, right after I had graduated from college. I was going back up north, and she was staying down south to finish two more years of college. I knew it was going to be a lot to ask her, to ask, "Do you want to try this, even if we'll be far away?" I'm not going to lie - I half-expected her to say no. That she would prefer to try to be with someone close by instead of dealing with a girlfriend already out of university and so many miles away. What I didn't realize was how much I meant to her, and for how long I had meant that much to her. I didn't realize the worth she placed on me as a human being. I sometimes still can't fully fathom it.
But she said yes. She said she wanted to be with me, because to her, not being with me at all was worse than being far away from me. So we tried it. People didn't think it'd last. But it did, and here we are, two years later. It worked. It worked so extraordinarily well for both of us. It was almost too perfect. But we loved each other that much.
We both know that the year ahead will not be easy. By the middle of June, college, for both of us, will be nothing but the past. We will both be searching for new and better jobs, hopefully in a city or town which we would both prefer to live. We will stress ourselves and each other out. We will have existential crises. And we will always hypothesize an alternative. But the core will still be there. We will still turn to each other for comfort, strength, safety, and passion. We will always choose each other over anyone else, because no matter what, that's what we both want.
And more than the usual lovey-dovey promises, more than the superlatives and the bad jokes, more than the heavy and bloated poetics that I type up nearly every day to properly convey my feelings toward the world, I have one thing to say to mo chuisle, my pulse, the love of my life:
Thank you. Thank you, Arden.
Thank you for choosing me.
For two years, starting with a plate of sushi, there has been a romance. For the most part, it's been very matter-of-fact. The biggest hurdle has been distance, but the relationship's been strong despite that, mostly due to pretty tight-knit communication and a constant reminder of the future. Since the day we decided to try this out, it has been a carousel of colors, adventures, questions, anxieties, hopes, dreams, patience, and of course love.
We dressed in tailcoat and gown together after our first year, enjoying a fancy Italian dinner with a full bottle of some of the best Riesling I ever had. We dropped by pubs to have pints and just talk. We ran rampant in San Francisco. Made cheesecake. Explored Cazadero. Cuddled by the Christmas tree. Endured one of us coming down with mono. Put up with long venting on the phone or on Skype. Sung together. Dressed up together. Created comics and stories together. Laughed together. Cried together. Held each other for hours without the need to do anything else. Even when we have usually been five hundred miles apart - and trust me, that will be changing soon - we have so many memories with each other to cherish. And that's amazing.
Looking back on the day I have just spent with her - a day of more Italian food and a second viewing of Wreck-It Ralph - I realize that two years ago, when we first kissed, I allowed her to choose what she wanted to do most. We fell for each other very fast, right after I had graduated from college. I was going back up north, and she was staying down south to finish two more years of college. I knew it was going to be a lot to ask her, to ask, "Do you want to try this, even if we'll be far away?" I'm not going to lie - I half-expected her to say no. That she would prefer to try to be with someone close by instead of dealing with a girlfriend already out of university and so many miles away. What I didn't realize was how much I meant to her, and for how long I had meant that much to her. I didn't realize the worth she placed on me as a human being. I sometimes still can't fully fathom it.
But she said yes. She said she wanted to be with me, because to her, not being with me at all was worse than being far away from me. So we tried it. People didn't think it'd last. But it did, and here we are, two years later. It worked. It worked so extraordinarily well for both of us. It was almost too perfect. But we loved each other that much.
We both know that the year ahead will not be easy. By the middle of June, college, for both of us, will be nothing but the past. We will both be searching for new and better jobs, hopefully in a city or town which we would both prefer to live. We will stress ourselves and each other out. We will have existential crises. And we will always hypothesize an alternative. But the core will still be there. We will still turn to each other for comfort, strength, safety, and passion. We will always choose each other over anyone else, because no matter what, that's what we both want.
And more than the usual lovey-dovey promises, more than the superlatives and the bad jokes, more than the heavy and bloated poetics that I type up nearly every day to properly convey my feelings toward the world, I have one thing to say to mo chuisle, my pulse, the love of my life:
Thank you. Thank you, Arden.
Thank you for choosing me.
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