Look, I know what you’re thinking. We shouldn’t do this. Not again, anyway. And you’re right – really, you are. When are you not?
But this is me asking you to understand that when I’m with you, my moral compass swings wildly out of control and it’s nearly impossible for me to be rational or just.
You don’t know me, I haven’t let you in at all. But if you did, you’d understand that this isn’t me. Or, this isn’t who I thought I was, at least. Anyone who knows me, even from afar, knows that I am sane and I play it safe.
Why, then, do I yearn to burn down to flames everything I’ve built so far by the fire fueled by my desire for you?
It doesn’t make any sense. Mistakes happen once, or in our case, maybe twice. And sure, we can blame it on the liquor or the fact that we were running out of time and were desperate to leave a mark on each other’s lives in whatever way those close quarters allowed.
But I’m here, now. I’m home. And you’ve always been home. Why, then, do I find myself reaching for the phone, looking at pictures of you, trying to reach out to you? Why, then, do you find yourself distracting your mind from work for someone you keep trying to shut out to avoid the pain?
There’s just so much that we don’t understand about each other and if we were to throw caution to the wind, it’d be our second biggest mistake.
Why, then, is this mistake beginning to seem like the most beautiful option we have?
I’d heard about crimes of passion and pain fueled by endless desire, and I’d find it hard to believe that such things could ever exist.
Why, then, do I suddenly feel hurricanes inside me, demanding me to make you a part of my storm and sin?
There’s a lot that I want to tell you. I want to write you letters talking about how I fear falling in love with you – for that would be another mistake.
I want to explain to you that you have a mystical hold over my mind – one that surpasses barriers, boundaries, language, religion and anything else in between. I want to let you know that if there’s anyone I would cross oceans for, it’s you.
You don’t know this about me, but I have a fear of water and drowning. But, if you jumped into an endless lake, I wouldn’t hesitate to follow.
It’s insane, right? Even while I’m writing this, I’m thinking I’ve gone half mad. And perhaps I have, for I’m here and you’re not. Or you’re there and I’m not. Places don’t matter. You’re home. I want you to be my home. And it’s funny because I already have home back here – it’s comfortable and snug and I’ve been building it for years. And with you, it’s uncertain and it’s rocky and it’s bound to end in misery and heartbreak.
Why, then, am I willing to tear down the walls of my luxurious abode, only to move towards uncertain ground?
Look, I don’t have answers. I have questions, yes. Plenty of questions. I sit and meditate, wondering if this is a sick joke life is playing on me. Maybe I’ve become unhinged. Maybe I’m getting cold feet. Maybe I deserve to have my life turned upside down. Like I said, I don’t have answers. All I know is that while I’m figuring this out, I want to be in your arms.
You told me I’m the sun in your darkness. Do suns falter and make mistakes? Are suns usually this tainted? Well, yours is. But I promise to keep shining. Even if I have to drain all my light to keep you content.
You’re a mistake. There’s no way around it. We’re a mistake. I understand that completely. You do, too. There’s no end of the line for us, there’s no beautiful paradise. There’s pain and misery down this path of mistakes. There’s just an end – inevitable and absolute. But the journey – you and I getting there together – why, then, is that something I’m willing to risk everything for?
Why are you the mistake I want to make repeatedly?