Hundreds of Markers Beside the Road

There were hundreds of reasons for Ben and I to be impossible. History was never kind to two boys like us, who love each other like we do. Forgetting our gender, ignoring all strange roads that led to us being on the same page, and there is still the simple impossibility of love defied. That all of our contradicting securities and insecurities, interests and disinterests, beliefs and doubts could somehow translate into this common uncommon affection that should be as impossible as walking to the moon. But, instead, I love him.

When everyone knows you, it is easy to think that no one will really ever know you. With the boy before Ben, I could only feel the limits. I found myself cordoning off parts of me, saying so much less than I wanted to say. When Ben came into my life, the doors inside me were locked. I wanted to be careful with him. Careful as one would be with a rabbitt. One fast move and I was afraid that he'd be gone.

I think our first true recognition was our mutual hesitation, our own need to be gradual. I liked him a lot, but at first I didn't think we could last. I couldn't believe in it because I was afraid to damage my faith. Every time you love someone, you put not just your faith in them, but your faith in everything to the test. I didn't think I was ready for that.
The most understandable thing in the world should be how seconds turn into minutes, minutes turn into hours, hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and weeks somehow make a year. And yet, this neat progression can still be surprising. The time we've spent seems too small to contain all the minutes and hours and days we've spent. We set down each day like a marker on the road, with the feeling of always moving forward.

It took me a while to get used to this. There were so many other people in my life. I spent all my time listening, learning the longings we all have in common. I never took the time to hear them in myself... until I heard them speaking to him. That desire for desire, that hope for hope, the possibility of everything truly possible. I had so many friends, so many nods and conversations, so many things I'd always wanted to say to someone.

Hundreds of markers beside the road. All the "I really like you's" that lead to the first "I think I love you" with every half formed argument and silly secrets. From a-little-to-the-left and advice that seems crazy. His name in my handwriting...

Those things do not matter except that they matter to us. We've given them meaning in the same way that we have given each other meaning. It took me weeks to know that we could make it forever. Most songs begin with "All I want-" and end with "Is you." - it took me a few verses, but eventually I got there.

I don't think about marriage. Just commitment. Mainly my own. I don't think forever, just revel in now - the only thing I have to offer him.

Years into days.
Days into hours.
Hours into minutes.
Minutes into moments.
Moments into possibility.

'All I want is you' is not entirely true. I want so much more, and with Ben I think I can get it. I tell him this. I tell him 'I love you', which says everything, and is entirely true.

Moments into minutes.
Minutes into hours.
Hours into days.
Days into years.
Years into possibility.

This will linger.