1:47 PM - Thursday, May. 05, 2005
Life is Like a Bowl of Jello
I have this urge to write a book, but I don't know what to write the story about. I think that's my main problem with writing... I always start these stories, but halfway through them I run out of where I want the story to go. Now, I think, that in order to tell a story or write about it, you almost have to know what the story is going to be about before you even begin. So what do I want a story to be about? It has to be something that I know, and it has to be something that I want to share. But what?
I'm sitting in the reception area gazing out the double glass doors at a parking lot full of cars. The sky is gray and cloudy, but it offers little respite from the Kansas humidity. Even the trees could be sweating if trees had been created with sweat glands.
I'm watching random birds flying through the air from one tree to the next. Every now and then, a random car passes by. I've been sitting here, ignoring my work, counting the cars by their various colors.
I remember when I was little and my siblings and I would play Pirate Ship in the back of Brad S.'s truck. We'd collect star shaped leaves off a tree next to where he'd park, and pretend we were collecting star fish. The four pronged tire iron would be our anchor, and we'd tie it to a bit of rope and throw it over the side whenever we wanted to go fishing. When different cars would pass by, we'd scream and hide in the bed of the truck. If the car was black, it became known as "Black Beard." If it was green, it was "Green Beard." And so on. I wonder where the time went. It flew by so fast.
Yesterday, I sat in bed reading a book, hoping that my eyes would become weary and that I could lay my head down and rest. Cory called me on his way home from work. He said he had put in a 14 hour work day, and he wanted to know if he could call me again when he arrived home. Of course, I said yes.
We spoke about work. We spoke about money. We held a conversation together like two people who have been with one another for years. And I realized that even though our relationship is changing, it's still strong. And I have this affection for him that surpasses any sort of bad mood he may put me in, to where I forgive him for the disappointments I may incur.
Sometimes I ask myself if I'm in love with him, but I don't even know what "in love" is supposed to feel like. At least, I assume I haven't a clue. I do love him. There is no doubt there. Even when he frustrates me to the point where I rant and rave emotionally, I still feel intensely for him. All he has to do is speak, and everything in my world feels right again.
There are times when I feel so overwhelmed with emotion for him that I want to cry. I want to cry when we can't speak. I want to cry almost every single time he says "good-bye" or "good-night" to me on the phone. I want to cry whenever I realize we're hundreds of miles apart from each other.
It has taken three years for us to get to this point in our relationship, the point where he understands me better than I may even understand myself (and vice-versa). I have never, in my entire life, known anyone who could handle my mood swings and still hold on strong. Who, after six months, didn't tire me out. Instead, he's kept me stimulated emotionally, physically, and mentally all through-out. And I don't know if it's because we say we're just friends, or if it's because there truly is something between us that some people search a lifetime for.
He may not always call when he says he will, but he is a constant fixture in my life. And while we may be just friends at this moment in time, I will always consider him one of the greatest loves of my life.
I love him. And he's one of my best friends... and that's all that really matters to me.
