[ja]cobdavis

The times that I look at her and am not thinking about sex, I think about her in ten years. I try to imagine where we will be. Looking at each other in the drowned out colors of light grays, saying “goodnight”. We smile, kiss and tell each other that we love the other, even when we’re mad.
I try to think about the light that might be in our hallway. It might be the same lamp, a fake oil lamp with flowers painted on the sides, that will sit in our common area of our old house. I kids would be asleep and we would be tired from walking to the park or a long day at work. Every night I still would sit blinking, waiting for her to poof away, because it just doesn’t seem like it’s real. Nothing this great is supposed to happen to me.

This past semester was a serious strain on both of us. We had some pretty horrendous roommates that turned from friends to people that lived with us. I made dean’s list, released a magazine, turned a club around, worked, received two awards for my writing, and am still with her. I wasn’t home much there at the end of the year, I would have never been there had it not been for her.

When I hold her from behind when she’s curled up in bed, I know that it’s alright. She’s what I want. If she were just like me it won’t work. I need someone to shove me out the door, because “the sun’s out.”

This is great, and even when it doesn’t feel like it is, it still really is.