Monday, September 05, 2011

It was a summer filled of hypotheticals.  Dreams, you might say.  Maybe we weren't so committed to them all, but they were fun to play out, to carry through in our heads where we couldn't in real life.  Maybe it got a little bittersweet to let them go, to admit they were just pretend.

I want to say that it evolved slowly-- first a band, then a partnership, then something more.  But that wasn't how it was, really.  It went from one thing to something else, lightening fast.

Maybe because I was so enamored with how it felt, at first.  That first song.  I fell a little in love with you watching that song, over and over again.  Because I liked how you reacted to me.  Because I loved how confident I seemed, how good I sounded.

There was something in that band, something in that partnership, and I wanted more of it.

So fine, we fell in love.  We replaced the hypotheticals of album covers and tour dates with baby names and songs to walk down the aisle to-- we chose the same one, of course, because it all really started with that song, you and I.

We knew none of these things could really play out.  Nothing had been realistic from the harmony to the honeymoon-- these are all things in your future, not mine.

And they are in your future-- not just the future love, but the music.  It is yours.  It's so thoroughly yours that it could never really be mine.

You don't know how you hurt me tonight, and the truth is, I don't either.  Was it because, starting from the very beginning, before you'd even begun to play, you told me that you wanted to run away from your life to make music, and would I do it with you?-- and now it seems so clear that I'm unnecessary and burdensome in that plan.  Or was it because it's the perfect metaphor for everything else-- your future, so passionate and exciting and all before you, and I, I'm just some jumping-off point.  Someone who was never really meant to be your partner.

If I had to guess, I think it was because you were the only person I was ever really comfortable singing with, even from the very beginning, from so long ago.  And now I think I've really lost that.  There were signs it was slipping.  Those times we tried to record and we couldn't; I was losing confidence.  I wanted to make it look like I was just too distracted by the rush of being with you, but I couldn't let you see how scared I was to open up.

Maybe this whole romance was a distraction-- so you wouldn't really notice I didn't have anything to offer the band.  Well, it worked, for a while.  Maybe I fooled us both.

I don't know if I've made it clear how badly I used to want what it is your going for now-- you tell me that this, this here, this in front of you, this is my real art, and I'm so good at it.  But I never really thought of this as anything more than a distraction from the things I wanted.  The things they all told me I couldn't do.

Dreams, you might say.

And you, you told me I could have them.  But every time you pick up that six-stringed sadist, it's clear that I can't; not the way you can.  Not the way you will.


I warned you, that guitar was going to be a problem.

On with it.

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