You’ll never comprehend my words, my depth, my spirit. Being so self-absorbed, I’ll search for yours but give up too quickly and easily because it contrasts what I know and live in drastically.
I can see you never attempting what I write, let alone enjoying it. You gave that up a long time ago, and at first I was disappointed and discouraged. With time, however, I’ll become indebted to you for having left me that part of me unadulterated, without interference from your always good intentions. Of course, doing so was not a conscious choice for you, but my gratitude cares not for such minor details.
At some (lower) level we’ll get along just royally. We’ll complete each other in the majority of the multitude of aspects humans need fulfillment in, and in this way we’ll live together, never fully understanding one another but carrying genuine appreciation in our hearts.
My tenure as lover and servant will be sweetly bitter; yours as lover and maid will torture you less, at least from my unknowing eyes. I’ll crave for your out-of-bodyness everyday as I watch you go about, simultaneously proud of the heavy burden of the chaos that reigns inside my head. You’ll find me insufferable at times but you’ll never leave. I’ll find you oceans apart in understanding me, and if I ever do leave I’ll be the one to come find you once again.
We’ll curse and laugh and fight and love; we’ll talk and walk and sit and breathe. We’ll both wonder every waking day how we ended up here, but the road is so long and so dusty our footprints have long been erased, and we can’t trace our way back even if we wanted to.