Sunday, 15 March 2009
Friday, 20 February 2009
Self Control, Self Denial…
These were the things which kept us together in our job, and apart in our darkest hours, but they are still the things which I admire most about you.
It is hard, was hard, in the life you and I lived, to find stability, a constant, but you were mine and still are. When chaos swirled around us, paper files spilling over desks and urgent words barked across offices, there would always be a pause – a moment – when I would look at you and everything would be calm again. Perhaps it was just a foolish heart skipping a beat, or perhaps it was the security you could bring with just one glance, one gesture or one word. You always were a voice of reason and a man whose actions showed the measure of his thought.
I have, and always had, absolute faith and conviction in your ability to have such sense and reason where it is surely hard to find and now, in these hardest times, I like to think it’s these things which are keeping me safe. I can’t deny the loneliness of writing a one sided correspondence, a letter sent out to the void, never to receive a reply, but in my moments of reflection, I cling to the hope that your silence is borne of the concern for me that I believe it is. To think anything else of your silence, I must admit, is not something I find easy, or comfortable, to do.
On Valentine's Day, I feared not the passing of the postman empty handed, or the quite, still void of cyberspace, for it was the reassurance that everything was as it needed to be. I fear only when the postman comes frightened of the news, or the horror, he might bring; I fear only for the day some mysterious message might appear to reach through the void to mine, for then I shall know it is not you reaching out to me; it is not you taking such unfathomable risks. Keep my letters in your pocket, my blog in your mind, and your replies in your heart. Some things are better left unsaid, at least until they can leave the lips and not the pen or keys.
And so, until it is safe, one day, for me to whisper these words to you in person, let me just say thank you. Thank you for keeping me safe and uncompromised; thank you for the lengths you must go to in order to protect my identity and never lead a soul to discover my whereabouts; but, mostly, thank you for being that steady rock in a stormy sea, and a constant I can depend on even now.
You always did right, took the right path, and made the right decision. Take it, make it, now, and I’ll wait as long as it takes.
It is hard, was hard, in the life you and I lived, to find stability, a constant, but you were mine and still are. When chaos swirled around us, paper files spilling over desks and urgent words barked across offices, there would always be a pause – a moment – when I would look at you and everything would be calm again. Perhaps it was just a foolish heart skipping a beat, or perhaps it was the security you could bring with just one glance, one gesture or one word. You always were a voice of reason and a man whose actions showed the measure of his thought.
I have, and always had, absolute faith and conviction in your ability to have such sense and reason where it is surely hard to find and now, in these hardest times, I like to think it’s these things which are keeping me safe. I can’t deny the loneliness of writing a one sided correspondence, a letter sent out to the void, never to receive a reply, but in my moments of reflection, I cling to the hope that your silence is borne of the concern for me that I believe it is. To think anything else of your silence, I must admit, is not something I find easy, or comfortable, to do.
On Valentine's Day, I feared not the passing of the postman empty handed, or the quite, still void of cyberspace, for it was the reassurance that everything was as it needed to be. I fear only when the postman comes frightened of the news, or the horror, he might bring; I fear only for the day some mysterious message might appear to reach through the void to mine, for then I shall know it is not you reaching out to me; it is not you taking such unfathomable risks. Keep my letters in your pocket, my blog in your mind, and your replies in your heart. Some things are better left unsaid, at least until they can leave the lips and not the pen or keys.
And so, until it is safe, one day, for me to whisper these words to you in person, let me just say thank you. Thank you for keeping me safe and uncompromised; thank you for the lengths you must go to in order to protect my identity and never lead a soul to discover my whereabouts; but, mostly, thank you for being that steady rock in a stormy sea, and a constant I can depend on even now.
You always did right, took the right path, and made the right decision. Take it, make it, now, and I’ll wait as long as it takes.
Saturday, 14 February 2009
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Thank you for falling in love with me…
I’ve started counting down the days. I hate myself for doing it, for filling my own heart with empty promises. But, in spite of everything, I remain an optimist. I’m a wannabe romantic. I want to believe that this time, this year, will be the one when it’s your voice on the other end of the phone, your face on the other side of the door.
It sometimes feels as though I’ve spent my whole life in love. In love with an idea, a dream, a person. Yet it was only in the ‘final years’ of my life that I felt I was loved back. A job that needed me, friends who would have died for me, a man who would have given up his whole world for me…
When I find myself bitter and full of self-pity, I remember that I was so lucky to have been loved, to have been loved by you. And in my more romantic and hopeful of moments, I cling to the possibility that you are still loving me from afar. Still loving me as much as I am you.
So when the dreaded day comes, and no cards or flowers or chocolates arrive on my doorstep, I’ll remember that I was loved once and I’ll smile.I hope you write, I hope you call, I hope you are waiting for me when I get home from work. But, mainly, I hope you’re smiling too.
It sometimes feels as though I’ve spent my whole life in love. In love with an idea, a dream, a person. Yet it was only in the ‘final years’ of my life that I felt I was loved back. A job that needed me, friends who would have died for me, a man who would have given up his whole world for me…
When I find myself bitter and full of self-pity, I remember that I was so lucky to have been loved, to have been loved by you. And in my more romantic and hopeful of moments, I cling to the possibility that you are still loving me from afar. Still loving me as much as I am you.
So when the dreaded day comes, and no cards or flowers or chocolates arrive on my doorstep, I’ll remember that I was loved once and I’ll smile.I hope you write, I hope you call, I hope you are waiting for me when I get home from work. But, mainly, I hope you’re smiling too.
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