The Silent Confirmation

On my way back from Ames, all I could think was that everything’s shit and shit’s inconsequential, that I could play that thought, that piece into an interesting tangible thread with which to sew this entry together, but every time I thought about whether or not I could still do those melodramatic entries, I cringed. Since I first met Jessica almost a year ago, I’ve been more or less content to keep the details of our relationship to a minimum, leaked out in quick asides or distant summaries. I don’t think going over every event or plot twist or behind the scenes tid-bit is appropriate, nor would it be fun, so instead I’ll cobble together some general things about the last week.

The trip from Odebolt to Des Moines International Airport felt like it did last time, slow and steady, winning the race. Road work ahead, it’s alright, I left four hours early I’m thinking, just in case her flight gets there early, which it doesn’t and instead arrives fifteen minutes late, the consequence of which is me jitter-ly checking the flight arrival monitor and ending up a distance from the here-are-the-people gate when she actually steps off of it.

Every time I see her, I tell myself I’ll try to remember what she looks like so I’ll never not recognize her at the airport. I try and try and as soon as she’s gone I forget. The moments before I’m about to see her again, I realize I’ll never recognize her in the sea of people. False alarms will be it and she’ll be crushed that I didn’t spot her like some analogy. But I always know it’s her the second I see her.

So I think back now about our car ride home, our stop to get ice cream she says, cause it’s hot out and we’re hungry, and it seems like years ago but it isn’t. I think back and it’s all fragments now, playing Mario, watching Sleeping Beauty, gambling at Sloan, driving around to Sioux City, concert at Omaha, movies in Denison and Ames, Red Lobster, cheap liquor, fanciful abandon, and it feels like they’re just things on paper, stuff we did. There’s this progress, this accomplishment, this something else underneath it all and I can’t quite say what it is.

I kill these tangents of thought when I try to write them down. Everything to here has been sitting in a file for days collecting e-dust while I ponder about why I can’t write about my feelings and my relationship anymore. I think whereas when I first started here, the crux of what I had to write was gushy melodramatic bullshit about my lack of love, now my inter-personal love-type stuff is enjoyable enough in person that I don’t need to be stupid about it in text. Maybe that’s a line you cross with growing up or getting more used to life or accepting things or something.

I feel like this needs to be “a very special” episode of my diary or accompanied by some touching orchestral warble.

I’m posting this entry just to get it out of the way. If I don’t, I’ll never write other ones because this one’s unfinished.