Sometimes, they marvel, half in admiration, half in disbelief that I would do something like this. Sometimes, they try to understand. But there are some things you couldn't begin to understand. No. Not unless you've been through it.
Sometimes, they think I'm stupid. I know they think I'm stupid.
But everyone's stupid about some things, and if there's anything I don't mind so much being stupid about, it's for being in love.
Not that unrequited stuff, nor the silly, ungrounded infatuations of the youth. Things like that don't last the storm, and this is a tempest.
My god, is it a tempest.
But the thing about tempests is that once you've beaten past it, hands blistered from fighting the current with your oars, face wind-chapped, body drained from swimming for days, and you're crawling back onto shore crushed to a pulp but not defeated,
nothing else will ever seem quite so difficult anymore.