Well, now that I made the brick I actually feel a little different about the entire situation but here it is.

There is someone who has been in my life for a long time and there has always been space stuck between us both geographically and often emotionally.

There were numerous times where I, with the skill of a salad chef, sliced our blossoming affection quickly because of geographic impossibility and because uncertainty when it came to trusting him.

Somehow though it always comes back, that there is this longing between us to be together... but it is barely spoken of.

Recently I started to take into actual consideration the realization that even my good friends haven't understood me in the same way he has. I'm kind of an eccentric person (i'm just realizing but my friends say it has always been so) and well anyways I started to value that connection and communication a little bit more.

He has been a little more forward than me in all of this and quite honestly I reacted by cutting it off the second I found myself having any desire for him past good conversation.

But I am moving back to the town we're from, where he still is. He was looking at graduate programs and had decided on the one in that town also (not because of me but just b/c) and so I started to feel a little bit excited to see what could actually happen were we in the same place.

Just recently he told me "bad bad news" that he is now going somewhere else. I am so frustrated by it. We talked about it a little tonight and he said what I was thinking... "Life just keeps us from being in the same place for more than a week."

I'm caught between a choice to feel something for him, to romanticize and fantasize about it all, or to say "fuck it" but after writing this I'm realizing my real strength would be in just accepting it. Quiet, acceptance.

but then i hear another voice that doesn't want to accept it.

It would just be such a beautiful story. It really would.
But I think I have to pull myself out of the fairy tale.
but that alone breaks my heart because love exists in fairy tales.

In such a cynical world, in such an impulsive, destructive, misscommunicated, misshaped, misunderstood place full of media falsities and reality confusions
is it possible that the love stories of my parents can still exist?

Or shall I be Dorothy Parker, who I greatly respect although I must say, I do not wish to keep up with her at a bar.

I choose Kahlil's words because "The Prophet" is something we once shared... and because its very beautiful.

Maybe what I'll do is accept and just hope. Stay positive. Aha! simple solution.