Less than once around the clock and she will have it in her hands. Anticipation will melt into a reality. At this moment I have no idea of what sort of reaction I might get, if any at all. Not say to say she would read it without emotion, far too much heart in the girl for that.

Simply, based on past experience, there is that possibility it will trigger that dreaded silence on a high level. Historically, when I have tripped one of her triggers with my words,  the more passionately I had wrote – the depth of her silence is proportionate. This could be a long one.

My anxiety was crazy high when I dropped it at the post office. While in transit, Ive become quite a bit more relaxed over it.   I posted where she would see it  a note “napkins”…

Napkins…
Just found this, thought it was lost – the original preface I had wrote – horribly composed on a napkin a few months back – incomplete, but wanted to share:

Perhaps it was the moment – or just taking advantage of the safety of the distance. Whatever it was the connection happened at a time when we were both hollow inside, not seeking company, yet still feeling the pains of being alone. Having such a pain and finding a remedy to sooth it was not only addictive, but made those same pains more obvious.

Loving, lusting, friendship, and connection is an intoxicating elixir for lonely souls even though we were strangers. We drank it in with abandon. Like a great and evil drug, we’d binge and then swear off it with reckless abandon, all the while fighting that inner knowledge that it was exactly what we needed. As desirable as it all was, rather than nurture or protect each other or even ourselves – we were careless with each other as much as we were with our own selves.

Always present was that inner knowledge that this was something, special, wonderful, – yet it was quite rare we treated it that way with the other. At the same time, we never acted with complacency towards it , knowing what it was, we tested and experimented – maybe it was being afraid to strip away from our security blanket of loneliness. Rarely spoke of, but each day knowing what a special connection was under the surface – ever growing.

We always stayed – pushed – retracted – rehabbed, together and alone. Such a perfect, imperfect connection. Looking back on the history of this, I no longer believe it was the drug that caused us to take the path we had. It was the dammed familiarity of the security blanket, trying to shed it was the equivalent of convincing a preschooler to give up theirs, to grow to learn to find feelings of security in more tangible ways.

That was apparently a trigger too – much more than I ever imagined it would be. She said that it was a secret place to hide from love or hurt. Cryptic, but at least she said something… hated that it was a trigger for her, but that also makes me feel more like on on track with my thoughts?

AS for anticipated reaction after that; overall, I think it will be positive, of course there are parts that I know are going to hurt to read – still, I believe she knows me well enough to understand my intent and be “ok” with my assessment of the state of us. We have been through similar situations and know our way around the topics and how to recover.

Still as have the constant sense of nervous anticipation…difficult to sleep, concentrate, etc. Fortunately I have a distractions this week, a tooth that is hurting to the nerve for hours at a time and working on a huge job in North Carolina, driving 2 hours each way to work it and 10-12 hours of day of some seriously physical labor.

Part of this job involves removing and re-tiling a couple thousand square feet of porcelain tile.  The one just no one wants in such a thing is running the chipper – a beast of a machine, heavy, – sort of like a jackhammer, but more violent in a lot of ways.

There was a collective sigh of relief when I didn’t ask who was going to run it – I just grabbed it and went to town – after about two hours my arms were numb, another few hours as my knees and feet were starting to ache I pushed harder and faster with the beast.

By the end of the second day I had run the beast for nearly 18 hours –  thank to running myself that hard I could finally close my eyes and find sleep, mind clouded from tiredness, – sure even doing that I thought about things, but the shear weirdness of pushing my physical like that made my mind drift like a boat with no rudder. If nothing else I have a much clearer picture of the masochistic mindset now.

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