Third Year's a Charm

Days were emotionally draining back then; nights were exhausting. As time elapsed in bundles of nothing, fatigue crippled my mind. My skin crawled with disdain for what I once loved. I was a wreck. There was no turning back: bags were packed, boxes were sealed, finances were straightened out, and goodbyes were left at the door. Not even years of familiarity could bridge the abysmal gap that those same years created between us. The truth is that I knew there would be a period to our eternity. In fact, we both knew forever was just a figure of speech. The pain seemed endless, nonetheless, and we were both to blame for it.

Back then, continuing with life was more than a chore, it was a necessity. There was no shoulder to cry on, no one to hold on to through the pain, no speeches about moving on, not enough of anything to bring back what was gone. The absurdity of it all overcame me and I could not bear the weight of judgment, especially from those whose lives were plagued by the same irrational premise. I was lost, faithless, and alone. I never knew the true meaning of resilient until then, and the thought of being such was completely unfamiliar to me.

I met Ares on December 9, 2003. It was a particularly chilly December night, the kind that freezes bones and carves painful grins on bloody lips. Motivated by nothing other than sheer fascination over a conversation with this stranger on the computer the night before, and arguing against this sudden urge to forgo my curiosity, I fought a battle of wills: mind vs. emotion, with the first in absentia. The door opened and life changed forever. In an instant, words were weightless, thoughts meaningless, and smiles inevitable. A single yellow rose in his hand, his eyes piercing my very soul, my name falling softly from his lips, my past swept away. I fell in love for the very first time that night… and every day since.

Happy three years, my darling Ares… and yes, another 80 years by your side would be the biggest blessing in my life.