ramble, ramble, ramble

When I was trying to determine how I would start to write this where should I start, I thought, œ at the beginning, start at the beginning.” So here I go.

The beginning.

I remember the first time that I saw you, I know what I was wearing, and where in the house I was. The stairs, I came bounding down the stairs to see who it was. And there you where, tall and so striking. And at that point, I can safely say that I liked you, enough to dream about you. Enough to think about how lucky Melissa was, not to mention my ongoing infatuation with her, that made me want to be either of you, just to be with one of you, what a far off and distant dream that seemed. I remember when I first saw he ring. On those beautiful hands, that sparkle in her eyes as she fluttered the fingers on her left hand, and all I could think was “my God, that’s beautiful” The next time I saw you, you two were together, in my living room, it was night time, and I remember sighing. Later, I don’t know how much later, but April and I were watching a movie, she had come over to spend the night, and the phone rang, and that voice, that charismatic and sweet voice floated into my ears, and we chatted, and I made a flirtatious joke, and it is safe to say that the next day when I was informed that that same flirtatious remark had been taken seriously, I was infatuated. You told me, and I remember that feeling, the same one I felt when I found out I made the musical, or got that part in Dracula. Like a cage full of birds had just been let loose from my heart. And we talked, for hours, you had so many interesting things to say, I could have listened to you for days at a time. And sometime, during those conversations, that was when I fell in love with you. That was when you became my everything. I learned so many things from you over the years (at this point I feel the chronological order more or less stopping). How to listen to myself, how to understand without anyone pointing it out to me that I was in the wrong, how to correct mistakes, admitting that I made them, you taught me how to love. You were this fountain of wisdom, strength and love that I could not drink enough from. I called you for comfort, when I wanted a friend, to advise me and tell me the truth, to love me in spite if the fact that I didn’t always do it right. And always, it astonished me that someone so wonderful, someone who seemed so out of my league, could love me. Me, a little girl who was immature and often stupid and most certainly more emotional than necessary. And I will admit, and this will come as no great shock to you, I was jealous. Of Melissa, of Amanda. I used to think to myself, “will that ever be me, someone that another loves so much that they talk about them as if they were everything about life, just as essential as water?” And too soon, it was February. And my pride (and I still can’t decide if I acted in the right or wrong in that situation) would not allow me to be with someone who shared a room and bed with another woman. It was too heartbreaking to think of you entwined with someone else. So I ended it, it seemed the logical thing to do. I remember were I was sitting, I hung up the phone, all alone in a big dark house, and I began to cry. I couldn’t believe it. Somewhere in there, my heart broke when you logically explained why I should let you be with yet another girl at the same time as with me. How could I argue? I didn’t know how then, though now I could think of a few things to say in that same situation. But I consented, I don’t to this day know why. My memories of time with you are few and far between, but they are beautiful, and my favorite, was new years eve. I think it was new years eve anyway, I went up to my bedroom, changed clothes and turned out the light. I lifted up the shades on my window, and out under the street lamp, you stood, looking up. And I bounded down the stairs as fast as I dared, hopped the fence, and there you were. We talked, and shivered together. I love that memory. The rest, well, I’ve more important things to write.

I know that you feel you don’t know me, that there are trivial things about me that anyone who loves someone should know about me. But, not surprisingly, we are a little different; no you don’t know where I was born, what my fathers name is or what my favorite food is (Victorville, California, Don, pasta all the way!), but you can think with me, you know me well enough to understand me when I make no sense. You get my subtleties and my tones. We two, get each other when we talk, it’s almost as if we share a soul. I love you Teel, for years now you’ve helped me to grow up and become something resembling a mature woman (I make no claim that I am there yet, just close). I will be forever grateful for the wonderful and positive influence that you have had on my life. I don’t care anymore about the mistakes you made, or that I made (and believe me when I say that we both made our far share). But I couldn’t do it, I wasn’t strong enough to be with you, I fell in love with someone and the guilt of you and my love for you hung over him like a cloud, and that hurt me too. I don’t know if I ever really told you this but, our communication breakdown happened as my love and connection with him grew stronger and stronger. I was afraid, you expected and wanted much more from me then I was prepared to offer. I didn’t want to make promises to you that I didn’t know whether or not I could keep. That’s when it became hard. When all at once everyone old me to love them the most, like children, I couldn’t handle it. In hindsight, I should have just stopped with two and picked one, but I wanted it all, and I grew guiltier and guiltier for what I was putting everyone through. I don’t want to lose you, I want to always have my good friend and first love, Teel, in my life. Even if only a little, don’t be afraid of me love, love me as I love you. I don’t want nothing to do with you, I just am not ready to promise you or anyone else, me. When we talk now, you seem so timid, tears swell in my eyes at some of the things you say, and that I have read. I’m sorry, sorry that I couldn’t have been kinder and better to you, I should have been. I was wrong and I hope that you will forgive me my many shortcomings, so that we may continue to love each other as the close and dear friends that I want us to be. Having written this, I feel better, a little more at peace. I don’t want you out of my life, you are a significant and wonderful part of it. I’m sorry that I can be so insensitive. Sometimes I think that I try to figure things out too late, and make a lot of mistakes that way. I love you, I know what you mean about the music, it’s yet to be written that express’s loneliness as it is for both of us right now. I suppose that is all for now, it’s late but I seem far from tired. I got stung by a wasp on the shoulder yesterday and now the sting itches, I put glow in the dark stars in my room, and they’re so lovely. I’m almost done reading my favorite book for the fourth time and will soon move on to the sequel for its fourth turn. I read a lot at night, I can’t sleep anymore, funny. I used to be able to sleep like a log at the drop of a hat, it was you that had trouble, and now, well anyway sleep well, you’ve earned the rest.

Love

Sara