2 Weeks

"Time fly's and changes things man, but you should never forget that your friends haven't forgotten." -Screwface the Dragon King

That isn't a direct quote. It's a very well written sentence, in comparison to the hip-hop short hand that's necessary to make a point in 90 beats per minute.

The point here is that time, while it moves on and appears to be the cause of change, some of us haven't forgotten yesterday. Ten years from now I will remember the last two weeks of my life as vividly as if they happened over the last two weeks, which they did.

Two weeks ago I was in love. On the surface that hasn't changed, I am still in love, with a beautiful, good, brilliant, wonderful woman. That love isn't, however, the same as it was two weeks ago. Then I carried my love for her on my back. I had to, because I was also carrying guilt, fear, and desire along with the things in my life that had nothing to do with her.

I felt guilty because I didn't have work. I felt guilt every time I forgot to turn off a light or needed and extra load of laundry done that day. I found myself trying to minimize my impact on her personal ecomomy sometimes only using enough energy in a day to run this computer and keep the words coming. Which was another reason for guilt. While I worked fairly hard at finding work, I worked much harder at building my writing career. A bit selfish, and very stupid I allowed parts of my life to fall by the wayside as I finally focused on another part. i never felt good about any of this. i wanted to do for her, and with her but I wanted to do it my way. I didn't want our lives to be dictated to us by some bullshit job, which I feel is all I'm going to get if I don't make something happen with my writing. so around and around I went, writing, and feeling guilty I hadn't done more that day. I'd circle the house, my little routine in place, making sure when she walked through that door every day there was nothing for her to worry about, nothing for her to be angry about. There was plenty.

I found myself feeling guily every time I took a minute to myself. I felt like I shouldn't take an hour to play some games, or I shouldn't be out hanging with the boys on an empty wallet and someone elses gas. I felt like I should be there with her, and for her in support of her no matter what. If I was going to be a work from home, starving artist, it was the least I could do. She often spoke about needing some time alone, but I never knew how to accomplish that for her. I was afraid that one day she would wake up and just be sick of me. Which she did, and was, but not for the reasons I thought. I was afraid she would grow tired of my face, she instead grew tired of my dependency on her. And it wasn't for the stuff she was doing, she would've done those things for me anyway, it was my dependency on her for those things I never asked for. I always felt that if I couldn't pay my own cover, have my own 20 dollars for tips and my own little cash for beer, then I should stay home.  But if I was always home, then I was never gone, and the more I was home, the more I was afraid she was growing tired of me. Fear is a great motivator but it was a bit too late. I don't scare easily, I always hought we'd work it out, but the fear parzized me, made me afraid to bring the subject up, afraid to see what I saw, afraid to ask for help. I'm still afraid to ask for help, I may always be, but at least I learned that about myself in those two weeks.

I had the deepest desire for our relationship to succeede. I envisioned myself, an up and coming established writer, banging away atthe keyboard, bringing home the bacon doing what I love to do. That desire still exists, no doubt, and far from diminished, but it's different. My new found forward motion as a professional in the literary world, must at this point be accompanied by some sort of...regular income. I have the desire for our families to become one. I desire all the things we talked about on those warm nights, twined together in bed; I playing with her hair and kising her gently, she holding me tightly whispering words of encouragement and love. We both want the same things, professorship, a life in the literary world as teachers, writers, publishers; A house on the beach and a brownstone in Boston; another child, one we make and raise together. I desire all these things and more. I have always felt that I could accomplish anything with her by my side. I have moved far from where I was when I met her two years ago and further still in these last two weeks. Where I thought our desire had been crushed by fear and guilt I found in the end it's been made stronger by what's happened to us here. My desire didn't change, nor did my love, it just took me a time to see it.

You see, two weeks ago she threw me out and it was harsh and unforgiving in its suddenness, but forgiving and gentle in its generosity. I think that is what tempered my anger and allowed me to think clearly. I spent those two weeks on a cycle of drink and fitful sleep. I found reasons to dive, and dive deeply, into the abyss. I stared the demons there down and I challenged them, "come, you cowards and fools, stare back if you dare." they did of course and, as ever I do, I found my demons not that frihtening, rather familliar and comfortable. sitting with my thoughts is like sitting in a council chamber, all your advisors ranged around you, good and bad, all giving you advice they thing will benefit the corporation. Be done with it some counciled. You can move on, get into producing porn, you can become an escort, they love you the bitches do. You'd be rich in no time. How, can you say you really loved her if you don't see this through others screamed at me. I never ignored them, any of those raging voices in my head. For two weeks we took council, held court and had some of my voices executed in the square, but I found that I do love her. I really love her. She is a fantastic woman and I believe that together we can accomplish what we dreamed of, not so long ago in that tiny blue room we shared, drunk off vodka only just then discussing dreads and whats next.I loved her then and I love her now.

Two weeks ago I thought our relationship was over, and i was ready to rage out into the world, never again to be caught up in the wiles of any woman.  Today, it may be complicated but it's intact and growing stronger by the hour. We are together, but apart and for now that is the way it has to be. We are people who challenge conventional relationships and so embracing a lifestyle different from the great herd is necessary for us to continue. I've accepted that things are going to progress as they progress and I have to move forward, we both do. I know that for the first time in a long time I feel comfortable writing all day, and often into the stupid hours of the night. I don't feel like I am disturbing, or neglecting anyone in doing it. I am sure she feels more comfortable in her home, even when she's missing me. We are still in love and though two weeks may have changed everything, it changed nothing and I have some memories I will never forget.

Think on where your life was only two weeks ago. While many aspects of your life may seem to not have changed at all, look more deeply and try to see the things that have. Often times those are the things we need to hear most of all.