Star Date #34

I open my eyes to a similar sort of view from the first time I woke up in the tree village, after my initial introduction to the dazzling effect of the liquor snakes of this fine place. The tree tops are there again, sunlight glistening through them. And the girl, thankfully. Holding a wet cloth yet again with which she dabs my forehead. I feel way worse than the first time this happened. Partly because I just took a shot of forest floor directly to the face with way too much speed and force for any person to pleasantly handle. But mostly because that devastating impact also translates quite literally to the crushing defeat I feel on the inside of my soul.

I went out on a limb before you know. Asking her out on a date via email. And instead of saying no, like in the real world, saving me from any sort of hope of success and therefore also from the probability of defeat and humiliation if she turns me down later. Instead of all that she said yes, getting my hopes up. Offering me, for a few hours at least, the anxiety of a dream. That by some ridiculous coincidence the date goes well. And we hit it off, click. And that she likes me and I like her and we fall in love on this crazy great adventure that has become this book and that even though I meet my exact duplicate, the one person I’d never want to compete with, who looks cooler than me, is cooler than me and looks taller even though we are the same height. That in spite of all this she still likes me, and only me, and our love, however fresh and fragile is already strong enough to persevere because this, is cosmic coincidence. This is destiny, providence, fate, karma, kismet, luck, serendipity and yes, magic. That this between us is all those things I want it to be and not just another page in a book that always ends with maybe.

But alas, it’s not that day. Not that time, not that story. I’m not arrogant enough to write a happy ending for myself because that is not life. I don’t want to create a perfect little fantasy where everything goes exactly the way I’d dream it would go. Because I don’t want to lie. Even in a book that is entirely made up I want to face reality and not deny it. I want to tell myself, and you, and anyone else that wants to listen that love is not some fairy tale storybook type of thing that just miraculously goes perfect if only you find the perfect one. I want to show love as it is, or as I have always experienced it. That yes, it is something that strikes like a thunderbolt when you least expect it and yes, it is as romantic and powerful as all the movies say but no, it’s not going to go right all the time and you’re not going to get it just by hoping for it or telling yourself a tale. It’s going to take hard work, be nasty, it’s going to hurt and it’s going to require sacrifice and honesty, patience, effort, resilience and gut.

And it’s going to require you to do things you’re absolutely terrified of like being vulnerable and opening yourself up to the possibility of failure because that is the only way you’re ever going to succeed. In anything.