I Miss You When I’m Tired July 2 I miss you when I’m tired. I think sometimes of all the good things, other times, I worry that you’re not okay on your own, that you regret your decision, which became ours, though I’m fairly certain you don’t. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I remember how I used to lose myself in your arms, forget the rest of the world, just to feel the fleeting safety of you. Maybe I should have done that more. I remember that nap in the desert, when our foreheads pressed together while we were sitting up; we actually fell asleep like that, though chaos raged around us, our marriage and our promises unraveling. I knew you were not okay, and I knew we weren’t either. My restlessness and exhaustion make me imagine every kind of disaster, all the ways I can prepare, anything to distract me from the present, from paying attention to what is actually happening — you are slipping away from me for good. When it Was Good July 7 I still can’t believe you’re gone. I can’t believe we lost each other. All the friends and therapists in the world couldn’t save us, and anyway, now all those people say we weren’t good for each other. But it was so good sometimes, wasn’t it? When it was good, it was something like perfect. I loved you so much. You loved me, too. We didn’t do it the right way. We didn’t know how to make the feeling we both had manifest into any kind of actual partnership. It wasn’t all hard. Sometimes it was wonderful. Then, it would fade away, and I would break own my spirit trying to get back to the good. I’m just so tired. We got so tired. We couldn’t keep trying, we couldn’t keep going on anymore.
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