baby reassure

     I look at this picture of us together and think “I’m a baby.” I’m a baby; I ask him for words of reassurance when another woman would be out building her life and not thinking of him at all. Right? Is that love, then? The grown-up kind?
     I forget. I not only forget that I know he loves me, I forget a lot of my own life. It’s hard to keep all the items at the forefront when they all demand full attention. One slides in, fills the screen, and when I am ready to let it slide out, I can’t quite remember what was supposed to come next. He is an easy choice, always an option for the next topic, so he returns again and again as my focus.

     I got some little cakes the other day, and I opened the box today and saw them half-eaten, pretty still, but leaning on each other, smushed together a little. And I thought: This is why we won’t work. These little cakes were alone in their box in my fridge, and they had each other, half-gone and wobbly. They’ll have each other all the way to the trash if I don’t eat them.
     I don’t have that. We don’t have that. Sometimes I think we do, but he doesn’t need me this way!
     I’m actually confused that in a world as perfect and orderly as this one--- because it is, you know, even if it doesn’t seem like it--- it goes on, doesn’t it? It sustains itself beautifully. But in this world, there can be a gap, a hole, an error, a misstep or rather a mispath as long and as perfectly outfitted as this one. Such a perfect illusion. It makes me think that it’s not one, but it has to be. And at the same time it can’t. So I keep thinking that if I just continue to try, it will become real. Is that possible? Does belief make things real, or do they have to be right to begin with? But why would you believe in something if it wasn’t right, at least for you? Do people really make mistakes like that?
     We got so much closer, but now maybe it seems like we are getting further apart. I don’t know if that’s true. Because I still feel closer to him than anyone else. But I can’t be sure that that feeling isn’t more because of me than because of him.