Architeuthis

Because then my best friend would eventually figure out the quality of my love for him after a series of hilarious misunderstandings and we’d kiss and live happily ever after.
As it is, he’s the one I call when I’m not happy, he’s the one I call when I’m happy. When he’s unhappy, I feel it. Last night we played chess and he gave me a massage and we had dinner in Chinatown and we talked about important stuff and unimportant stuff and, like always, I liked myself in his company. I know this guy so well, we’ve been friends for so long. I wish I could bring him joy by being as tender and affectionate as I feel, by letting him know how special he is to me. Really, there aren’t words. Love is love. It’s the rush of emotion when he touches me, it’s the hours we spend talking on the phone, it’s the gentleness we show one another. It’s the giggles and the pauses, the silent torment.
He does know how I feel. He’s never told me what he thinks. He’s with someone. She is beautiful and clever and successful and independent and brave. I do my best to help him make that work – because it’s what he wants. It hurts like hell, but I can’t bring myself to behave in a way that will make him unhappy. I encourage, I counsel, I quell the voices that tell me to manipulate him into seeing what he could have. It will never be up to me. Love that is dishonestly gained is false from the start, and I don’t what we might have together to ever be tainted.

So I’ve learnt to drive now, knocked that goal over, which opens up a lot of things to me that were difficult before… like all sensible people, I love sea creatures, looking in rockpools, the motion and size of the ocean, and I’d like to love it from inside it… Oh, and I’m obsessed with giant squids :)

Maybe, maybe tonight I’ll get this done… I’ve got the watermelon, I’ve got the will, I just need a high place.