Once, our youth minister told us the calling to the priesthood was so great within him, the yelling kept him up at night.

I don't think I truly understood that until now. I feel called to serve the world in such a way, it keeps me up at night. It's that loud.

I cannot imagine doing anything else but serving this population. Working to lift the tide. Evening the playing field, or at least trying to give everyone a fighting chance.

Bringing information to everyone. Knowledge to everyone.

It keeps me up at night.

I've never felt such ownership over my own success and capabilities before. I've never felt so confident in my abilities to truly change something for the better. I feel more empowered than I ever knew was possible. Right at the brink of learning how to do what I feel fated to do. I know I can do this. I want to do this. I need to do this.

It keeps me up at night.

So maybe You were Right, as Always

What is this like? It's like exhaling and taking in new air, not realizing you were holding your breath until you let it out.

It's like breathing for the first time in months, not realizing you were suffocating until you weren't.

What’s frustrating is that I know she’s right. That not a mere two weeks ago, I put thoughts to paper that said, “maybe I am ready to move on, even though I love her with my whole heart.” And that is exactly what she was saying this weekend.

Two years.

I don’t know what to do, what to think. I don’t know if I’m pulled to her because she is what is right or because I just want her.

What I know is that I like us (“I love us,” she responded on Sunday). I like that we support each other through the bad and the good. I like that she accepts my flaws and I accept hers. Sometimes I am irrational, emotional, and uncommunicative. Sometimes she is harsh, casual, and unapproachable. We are not perfect. But we are enough, for each other, together. We still see the best of each other while embracing each other’s’ imperfections. Because I am also passionate, forceful, and compassionate. And she is perceptive, logical, and fierce.

What I know is that I like the unconditional support we give each other. That I never felt the need to choose between her and my education. That even though this continued distance has led us to have to consider these questions, I do not feel to blame. I am not to blame. We just need to figure out how to deal with it. Not dealing with it was out of the question from the start.

What I know is that we’ve loved each other through hard times before. That our constancy continues to amaze and surprise me. What I know is that I love her. She loves me (“I love you so much,” she said. “I love you differently than I’ve ever loved anyone.”).

What I’m afraid of is that these discussions will lead to the possibility of us; real, together, couple us; being gone forever. I want to believe that, if the time comes, we would be open to being together. We have our whole lives ahead of us. I’m not ready to give up on that possibility yet. I am willing to be open to other possibilities; I can work harder on that. But I still want this possibility, our chance.

What I’m afraid of is that I’ll just be another in the line. Another lover who pines for this beautiful, worthy girl. I’m afraid to waste my life on that mere possibility, instead of a reality. But she loves me. Loves me differently. Protects me differently. And she has that fear too. I don’t think she’d let me do that, pine away my whole life. She’d say something.

What I’m afraid of is not hearing her, not respecting her because of what I want. I worry that agreeing with her means giving up but that disagreeing with her means not giving her what she needs. What she deserves. That is so important to me, that she has the freedom to pursue what she wants and know that I will support her and love her through it.

I’m afraid that we don’t have the same desires of each other, that she was trying to tell me that this weekend, and I didn’t hear. I worry that she doesn’t want the possibilities I want and that I was being too selfish to hear that. But she would make that clear. I know she would. She is always honest, especially with me. This is just her doing what she does best, making the rational, hard decision.

But I’m still afraid of not hearing her.

I’m afraid of how fearful we both are. I worry that fear will cripple us, will make us make the safe decisions instead of the right ones.

What I’m afraid of is not handling this well or gracefully. That I’ll forget these things that I know in the face of change, to our detriment. I don’t want to lose her that way. Neither of us deserves it.

I’m afraid of repeats, in so many different forms. That I am just a repeat of past relationships for her. That she is just a repeat of past relationships for me. That this situation is just a repeat of Maryland and its preceding months for me. And this fear can only go away with time. With our, especially my, choosing to make different decisions this time around. And I can do that.

I’m afraid of not being optimistic. Of not trusting, not believing, not accepting.

What I know is that we are strong. Even in our lowest, darkest times (and there have been some), I have never felt like what we have or what we are was wrong. We’ve never been a bad decision. What I know is that every step along this improbable journey as amazed and delighted me with its beauty. Every turn. Every trip.

I don’t have the answers. I wish I did.

She told me yesterday not to think too much about any of this, to just let it be. To let things unfold the way they should. So maybe it’s not about having the answers. I trust her. I love her. She trusts and loves me. Whatever comes next will be a product of that. 

Things I Miss (and/or Vicious Little Thoughts)

I miss the way you smile at me and the way I could lean into you without thinking.

The way you tell me over the phone, "But you'll catch me up next week, right? Promise? I love you," makes me melt.

I miss our dinners. I miss sitting on my front porch with you, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. I miss putting my feet in your lap and you absentmindedly tapped on them.

I miss your rugged laugh.

So much of you is back, now that you've left, but that just means I miss you all the more. Now that you're more YOU, there's more to miss, as strange as that is to say.

Even more so is the fact that this separation has done wonders for our friendship. This helped us tremendously. But now that we're back to a good place... I miss you more.

I miss you, I miss you. No place like home when you're my home.

It makes them angry, you know. That for every one time they talk to you, I've talked to you at least three. That I visited and have plans to visit again, and they can't seem to make it work. That for some reason, what we've been saying from the beginning is true:I'm your best friend. I'm special. I know more, and for that, I'm honored.

Vicious vicious of me to be proud and don't I know it. But I'm tired of them acting like we were just the same.

Anyways. Today I miss you more. Come home to me soon, please.