My Thoughts Create My World -marcus Flutie

And Now, As I'm Lying Alone In My Own Bed, I Keep Thinking About Writhing Against Him Last Night, Naked And Vulnerable. Even After We'd Both Risen And Fallen, Peaked And Plummeted, Even After Marcus Was Physically Shrinking From Inside Me, I Couldn't Stop Clutching, Crying, Trying. Trying To Pull Him Deeper, Deeper, Deeper Within. Trying To Make Him More A Part Of Me Than I Am Myself.

I Thought Marcus Was Going To Be In My Life Forever. Then I Thought I Was Wrong. Now He’s Back. But This Time I Know What’s Certain: Marcus Will Be Gone Again, And Back Again And Again And Again Because Nothing Is Permanent. Especially People. Strangers Become Friends. Friends Become Lovers. Lovers Become Strangers. Strangers Become Friends Once More, And Over And Over. Tomorrow, Next Week, Fifty Years From Now, I Know I’ll Get Another One-word Postcard From Marcus, Because This One Doesn’t Have A Period Signifying The End Of The Sentence. Or The End Of Anything At All.

I Almost Can’t Believe I’m Going To Make Myself Vulnerable To Him Again. But What Is Love But The Most Extreme And Exquisite Form Of Risk Perception? I Know That Relationships Don’t Last. And Yet, With Him, The Risk Of Not Being With Him Is Much Worse Than Any Other Hurt I Can Imagine.

The Road Less Traveled Will Not Be Smooth

Where's My Syllabus To Guide Me Through Life?