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Beguiling Anger

Sometimes I stop and consider whether all of the effort is profitable, yet alone worth it. We will be sailing along calmly, the waters still and relaxed, a veritable rippling mirror. We cradle each other's hearts lovingly, our bond unvarnished, pure, and inexplicable. No pushing or prodding is required to maintain it. It simply is, natural and free, an accepted fact like the crisp air or the vast skies. Then, from nowhere, a tsunami hits, followed by an extraordinarily torrential thunderstorm. We struggle vainly and perspiringly to stay afloat, to maintain structural integrity. However, despite all action, we inevitably capsize. As I lay dying, adrift and motionless on the lapping, depressing surface, I witness something beautiful and eerily familiar. Out of the wreckage, you and I both rise, seized by some unseen force. Our vessel is repaired, no longer a rickety, wooden skeleton, but an ironclad warship. Like the phoenix, we ascend to the horizon, revitalized and assured, before landing gently back on the deck, rejuvinated. With weary eyes and hopeful hearts, we embark again on shaky sails and a loving bedrock. Move towards the Sun, it leads to Heaven.

We were outlaws roaming free, surviving intimidation and incarceration, rivals and reticence. Our conversations were light and spontaneous, carefree and wily. We were explorers, each discovering a new, unmolested cave that led to the unrestrained, dangerous wilds of our hearts. Eagerly, we rampaged through the world hand in hand, unobstructed by depression, unmoved by weakening temptation. From you I scavenged peace of mind, sanity, acceptance, and, most unadorned, friendship. Love blossomed, and we never looked back. In return, you found in me hope, a home, and the raw materials with which to mend your aching soul, torn and maliciously savaged as it was. We healed together, and as I think back across the vast swathe of time weve spent together, tears trickle past my stubborn hands, leaping past my defenses. Your mark on my spirit is as indellible, unique and permanent as any tattoo.

Two stubborn, broken fools, thats what we are. We argue because of our collective pride and due to the prodigious swiftness with which we both take offense. Our hearts have beheld us in agony as we degenerate into little more than posturing monkeys, locked in the knells of deadly combat. Screaming, screeching, howling and yelling are the calling cards of a verbal onslaught. Objects thrown, feelings distended and devotion dismantled are the ultimate results as we both lay collapsed in the wake of the fog of of our own personal war. We aren't unlike any number of couples that thickly dot the Earth like pores on skin, present but invisible due to the sheer density of their ranks. But then, they dont matter. No one matters but you and I. For every endless grind there have been exponentially rising periods of gliding ebullience. No one is perfect, especially not you or I. But you AND I. That's where the magic lies. Perfectly imperfect, functionally dysfunctional, syntonically dystonic. Beautifully horrific. Bonnie and Clyde.

Through sheer force of will and me coming to my senses, youve managed to corral this drifter into something I said I would never again suffer through: A long distance relationship. My last attempt ended disgustingly, to put it mildly, and after the dust had settled, as I rocked my battered heart carefully, encased in strong arms, I promised him that we would never take such an abysmal risk ever again. I would instead be autonomous and incorporeal, flitting in and out of women's lives at will, while claiming and discarding them like a libidinous collector. A fun life, one that I enjoy and hold no regret nor remorse for. But it was a reverie, and like all reveries, it had to eventually be punctured by reality. Loneliness gnawed at my heels, an inscrutible hellhound that refused to be ignored or disregarded. Incensed, I recklessly pursued pleasure in greater and greater amounts until, spent and barren, I gave in. I acknowledged that I needed, if not a girlfriend, then a companion, a ride or die partner, who would provide emotional buoyancy while enabling me to keep my cherished freedom. Then you appeared. I begged my Lord and Savior for an angel to descend and save me from my vices, my torment and anguish. Instead He laughed, and allowed a demon to surface, clad in camoflauge, yoga pants and flannel shirts 3 sizes too large. Things began simply enough, and as attraction blossomed into infatuation  which then shed its juvenile chrysalis and became a mature, deep love, we grew devoted and exclusive. One morning I woke with a start, and with the sudden thought, "Fuck, I have a girl again.", I surrendered myself to our fantasies. We are inseperable, chained together by an unseen, irrepressible force more potent than gravity. An ocean is nothing compared to kindred spirits. Take my hand and lets fly.

You anger and beguile me. Your tenacious attention to the details in my own life that I either miss or neglect drains me of my rebelliousness until I inevitably concede. At times I feel like Im a teenager living back at home. "Take your boots off in bed.", "Youre not eating Taco Bell again for dinner.", "Put on a shirt, for fucks sake.". I rally against the structure and order with all the rage and contention I can muster, yet it is in vain. Because the truth is that for the past 2 years Ive craved somebody there to care about me. To penetrate the facade, the leather, callousness, tattoos and hostile aura, and see me for who I am. Ive wailed for reconciliation, and instead Ive been given a new lease on life. Congratulations baby, youve successfully eluded the Fighter's fists, expertly placated the Player's silver tongue, convinced the Vagabond to cease his directionless roaming, and eased the suffering of the Poet. If we succeed, rapture awaits us, and if we fail, we can bear the pain knowing we defied Neptune himself. But we will succeed. The alternative is a curse neither of us can bear. Now, lets do this. I love you.

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