Like, a Self-Affirmation or something...

Somewhere, in the dark distance beyond all the sad endings that have been, I write a fiction in my head of a way for all of this to work. I write the small scenes of intimate moments playing out between us. I write the big goodbye scenes and the big hello scenes.  I write the longing of letters back and forth. Somewhere, this truth exists.  If I am heartbroken tonight, then please let me be heartbroken tonight because tomorrow I will be better and it's not to make you feel guilty, it's to make me feel better, to make me feel something in order to feel something greater in a long little while.  Yes, I still love you.  Yes, I still think of you, but mainly in pain, which is why I write these stupid phrases of my feverish brain to extol the virtue of my pain, to wreathe myself in the fire of it, to bathe in the melancholy, to itch out malcontent, because I know it will only help me in the end, it will only allow me to be myself quicker and stronger and faster than I was before and pretty soon you find that love is just one aspect of you, that love is in fact ok to send out on the wings of a dove, to maybe come back with an olive branch someday, but that day is not tomorrow nor the next day and those days are my days, not to wait, but to percolate, to obfuscate my demons and speak pseudo-genius words to drunk bar patrons and prepare the next great part while I breathe in and someday, when I'm successful, when that dove comes back to me, I'll be ready to accept it and move on, to become greater in the eyes of whatever, because I deserve as much as that whole ocean out there can give, but the dove is not a hunting bird and I'm not interested in fishing for affection, just a will to live.