You arrived at a very strange time in my life. I was on the verge of throwing my whole world away, and by my whole world, I meant all that my seventeen-year-old entitled hands had crafted within the safety net of my parents’ savings. It did not occur to me until then that the person I had so long sought to become, was no less mediocre than those of my crowd pleasing peers. My dream was a patched pile of others’. And so perhaps our introduction was timely perfect.
As with every epic romance, there was a catch. The irony of this story came fairly early, quite immediately, with me no differently “throwing my life away” for you. I slept equally and even more little than before and detached myself from anything and anyone that wasn’t at least indirectly linked to you. You and the future you spoke for us consumed me. Something else seemed promised. Something eternal.
We weren’t strangers before we met, surely. It would even be right to say that we’ve crossed paths all our lives, but I think my heart needed to be broken before you. I had to sit in all my pieces and put them back together in a way that felt right to me, and only me. In doing so, I was building the heart you and I needed - one that beats truly and endlessly, because it simply wants to.
A frequent concern is that you are tying me down from yet discovered possibilities, first and foremost is because we are in two different cities. It is not certain whether I will come back to you, or you will be able to come with me. My eighteen summer fling is simply extending as I refuse to give up on yet another “lifelong certainty.” But going on three years now, I still confidently say that I have never felt so free. You uphold me and build me, without forgetting to challenge my determination.
And so I do not mind the one, six, seven, twelve, thirteen or even fifteen hour differences. I do not mind our talks at 3am or waking at 7am. We’ve delayed plans and defied those traditionally set for paths like ours. I do not believe in modeling what we are building. That would not be fair to you. You’ve taught me that I can be as reckless in my love as I please because it is mine; to paint a career that makes me proud to grow.
We exist in fragments of scribbles between class periods, job searches and train rides, intercontinental Skype meetings and a promise of fruition that is only alive if we choose to trust in it. It has never felt like work with you. You are the calling I never and always knew I needed. And no matter how many day jobs add to my savings account, I am here.
Alongside the public murmurs, the confusions and our own uncertainty, gosh, I swear I will work so hard, so so hard, and soon we’ll have our own changing rooms and instruments and filming lights and pick up van and rotating stage.
Just you wait.