soft as thunder

Last night, you and I spent the night watching Les Miserables at the Saenger Theatre.

Maybe you have no way of knowing. Maybe you already know, but this event (heavily anticipated by you and increasingly feared by me ) is going to be the last time you and I do something like this together.

For you it marks an occasion you have been waiting for since '92. We bought the tickets months ago, when all of my plans were just a shadow in my mind, plans I wanted so desperately not to take form. I had no idea that I would spend the drive there, the walk from the parking lot to the theater, the purchasing of our souvenirs, the show, the intermission, and the drive home, thinking about how it was going to be the last time we did something grand together. While Fantine lamented the loss of a dream, when Cosette murmured about castles in the clouds, Thenardier celebrated being master of the house, while Marius coveted Cosette, I could not immerse myself into their misery; mine was too immediate. It is only fitting that the last thing we see together is this play, of all plays.

For me, it marks the start of something I never thought I'd have to do: leave. We have nothing else in front of us except for the end. Know this-I don't want to do this to either of us. I never have. I just don't know what else to do, and living with you like this, under farce, is leaking poison into my blood.

You vaped and praised the show the whole way back to LaPlace, I cried and tried not to let you see me. I am getting good at that, better than I want to be.

I keep on waiting for me to be all cried out, but it never stops.

I guess that's still a good thing, because if I'm still crying, it means I still love you. I always will.

When you love someone, your fate enters the unknown.

I hate that this is our unknown.

-Rae