...and the rest of what's left

dear girl,

i was on my way to the movies when i got your message. it was one of those lazy sundays drenched in rain, when working the whole day on a weekend leads one nowhere but to the relaxing confines of the cinema, a smooth escape that rivals the solitude of my attic. my escape that afternoon was woody allen's matchpoint. it was a good one. but that's not the reason why i am writing you this.

it took me a while to respond to your message. although i am not a bit surprised about how you feel. you can't lie to yourself, not the least about how you feel. i know that when love is calling you cannot play deaf. or when it jumps for joy you can't stop the smiles from cracking your lips. or force the twinkles off your eyes. or when it's pricked you can't stop the bleeding. because when the heart beats, one's mind and body just follow its rhythm.

i feel for you. and now i am still lost for words of what to say to make you feel ok. but i know that this is what i want to tell you (and to myself too): i know that when one gives in to what they feel, it opens up emotions that are most often than not more intense than what they had in the first place. who would have thought that love brings along sadness and happiness, fear and courage, anxiety and resolve, anger and compassion, etc. etc., often in combos that are both lethal or otherwise, whichever way you see it, for passionate people. people like you. people like me.

it is a very strong message to say that you are in love. yet, it is much more stronger to say you realize that you are STILL in love. and with this i envy you. i envy you because you can recognize these feelings. in my case, i seemed to have folded up already after getting hurt with the last one.

don't be like me. i hide it so well. i hide the pain and even the joy that comes with loving that i often don't distinguish either one at all.

you are strong, girl. choose well.

hugs.

this is marc's version of the truth, sometime at 11:31 PM if you can't live with it, he can.