Last One, I Promise

I swear, this will be the last post dealing with her. Maybe if I write it out, I can get her off my mind for good.

Who? Well, the girl who's been parading through all of the posts the last month or so. She flaunts my feelings for her across the ribbons of my mind and her scandalous wanderings through the backdrop of that mind paint any post I can give.

She hints at herself when I write about leaving. She insinuates herself into my words about sex and desire.

She's not a bad girl, just honest. She was honest about the prospects of her being able to wait around a whole year. I wouldn't have asked that of her anyway. Maybe she won't spend this year tied up in knots if I'm not someone she is officially tied to.

She was with me in life and death. I thought I was dying a while back and was absolutely miserable to be around. She stayed by. She held fast. There's a reason boats are named after women.

Now she's gone. I wish I could say she took all my money. My best friend.

Regardless, it's the same old story, and here it comes again.

I have to leave, not only my home and my plans, but I have to leave her. I laid on her, a woman all of ivory and tourmaline (fucking geology references), and I told her that when I come back I know I will not be the same person. Every combatant is a casualty. I have come home from these things before. I could not pretend with her that I would return and we could start where we left off.

I didn't know it was goodbye until her hug lasted a little too long. I promised to call her before I go. Her life is complicated. I have since been informed that before me she hated men. That is an understandable state given her past. I never would have guessed she had anything but love for men, but maybe that love was mine and mine alone, compounding the tragedy of it all.

I hate tragic people. I hate when I am one. Sorry for the lack of funnies and for the lack of anecdote.

I'll call her from the terminal when I'm leaving.