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02 June 2009 @ 10:40 pm
Clarity on the University Bridge after dusk  
"I love you," I said. "Do you love me?" (I opened the door.)
"Maybe," he said. (He put his foot in the door. A big stompy boot, actually.)

I waited.

"I love you," I said. "Come back here." (I opened the door.)
She said, "Maybe." (She put her foot in the door. Cuter shoes than I will ever own.)

I waited.

Last week, both: "Maybe not." (foot still in the door.)

The same thing (to me) as Maybe. No new information, no decision, no carpe diem. And yet, I've been feeling relieved (along with the more usual and expected disappointment), without understanding why.

Tonight, as I walked across the University Bridge after dusk in a perfect summer night breeze, breathing deep, feeling my noise1, I understood why.

I've stopped waiting.

All of my doors are closed now.

None of my doors are locked, the handle's on the inside; they can be opened if I chose it.

Whenever / if you knock on my door, I'll decide what to do about it then.

Carpe diem.

1. as Duri used to say; the core self that gets muffled in the white noise of interpersonal relationships
Current Mood: good.
Current Music: "Someday We'll Know" - New Radicals