an assemblage of melancholy blather

[Rose walks in, unexpectedly, having surreptitiously traveled 2000 miles to surprise Lily.]

Lily: "Did you hear me crying for you?"

"I’m in love with you."  It’s been spoken to her countless times before, however I’m certain that no one has ever loved her like this.  What I feel for her is messy and complicated and frustrating and it angers me that I even feel it at all. It’s raw and it hurts like Hell and it’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt in all my life.  She’s not a perfect match for me but that’s what makes her exactly right for me.  Reluctantly, I am in love with her… and she is the last person that I will ever love.  It will go unmatched.  Unchallenged.  For no other love could ever touch this.  There will be no one else.  It is simply not possible.  She is the very last.

I think about the greatest moment of my life often.  This single, perfect moment in which I felt more love and intimacy for another person than I ever have before.  It was quiet and beautiful and although brief, enveloped in this instant, the rest of the world around me did not exist. The tragedy is that in spite of the closeness and completeness that filed the very core of my being… she doesn’t even remember it.   

It’s funny how all the things that you’ll never have can keep you awake at night.  How things that don’t even exist can haunt you.  How nothing can mean everything.