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You know how sometimes you get to thinking and perfectly sane hopes lead to horriblely crazy ideas? I'm having one of those weeks. Things that seemed to be going right are going wrong, ideas that at one point seemed completely possible are asine now. I can't go into details, nor would I. Too much of this hits too close to my heart for me to express it with words.

But things I had hoped never to happen again are creeping closer and closer upon me. And yet all I can think about is the trouble of another whom I profess to love. I guess what I'm say is the oldest question. Why does love hurt so much yet you can't think of a way to live without the pain? These troubles could put a strain upon us two that neither can weather, and that scares me. More than anything else in a long time. I lay awake at night after the whole floor has gone to sleep or at least reitered to their rooms. I just lay there, eyes half closed, trying to keep hope.

I want the best for her, but question if that is me. Surely there has to be some one who is closer, or some one who is able to comfort her better. And now, when she needs me the most, it seems likely I can't be there for her in person. Words can only do so much. My voice can carry only so far.

This won't end up like that. I won't let it. We both have struggled to much, fought to many battles to let something like this beat us. Perhaps the trouble is with me. I would give anything to have her smile but once. My life is her's. Should it be given for her it would be an honorable way to die, a good way to die. Not that I wish to die. I wish to spend days under the sun with her, to hear her laughter. I wish to show her that moonlight is beautiful, if even the darkness is stronger at night.

Yet I'm out of answers. If I were there, I could do more. Yet I can't be, the danger to her is to great. I don't care about myself. My body will heal, my wounds in time will be forgotten. But should I ever cause harm to her, I could never forgive myself.

Call me old fashioned and out of date. But I guess I am. Like a Knight who doesn't know that his beloved chivary is dead and in the grave three days past.



I love her.