Letters to a Marine

Loving a Wild Thing

Dear Marine                                                                          2-16-13

                A year.

                Not a measly three months, not a full 6 months. But the full out 12 month deal.

                In florida.

                Not just two states away, not just maybe a day drive away, but on the other side of the country, with your beaches resting on a different ocean, with your sun rising a different time.

                How do I react to this? How did I think I could react to this? Oh how oblivious I was, how blissfully happy I was, I felt like a little girl living in a fairy tale for those 28 days you were here. But now the spell is over, and I’m looking at this paper, this blank, empty paper, wondering why there are no words. I look into my mind, to find the words, and I see how numb I am, just sitting there in my mind, I wonder, when did I go numb?

                When did all my emotion leave me? I feel nothing but sadness now, watching my friends walk hand in hand, hearing couples laugh with each other, feeling the happiness radiate off everyone. I feel nothing but pity for myself. Which might be an exaggeration, I’m a empathetic person, so when other people are happy, I’m happy, but I have been by myself mostly, laying in my dark room, wondering what to do with myself. What does one do when numb? It is like everything is muted, or underwater.

                I feel the memory of your hand on mine. I feel the smooth metal of your locket with the marine insignia on it. I say your name in a normal conversation. I see a picture of you next to me in your uniform. I hear the memory of your voice. And all I can do is close my eyes and wish the sadness away, to wish away the tears that come whenever I try to write. But I never wish for the memories to leave, I want to save them, like one does with a flower, to press it between the pages of a book, to be able to look at it whenever I wish.

                This time when you left, you didn’t ask what was wrong. No I think you knew what was wrong. You asked me something else. You asked me if I was okay. If I was going to be okay. I couldn’t do anything but hug you, to hopefully give you a years worth of memory in one hug, like if I held on, maybe you would remember me better. I don’t think I responded, or if I did I said I would be fine. If I did that was a total and complete lie. I couldn’t tell you how I felt. That wouldn’t be fair.

                I was not okay. I wanted to stamp my feet and scream that the word was not fair, I wanted to be 5 again, and every time my dad had to leave for months at a time I would cling to him and scream for him to not go, that I didn’t love him, that I hated him for his leaving. When months later dad did return I would ignore him, I would tell him if he really loved me as his little girl he wouldn’t leave me. I wanted the world to be fair, I wanted it to make sense. I wanted to never see that look again, the look my father would give as he walked away, the look that said he loved me no matter what I said, but he still had to leave. The look that would keep me awake when he was gone, the look that killed me whenever I said he didn’t love me and that I hated him. So how is it fair that I feel in love with you? That your memories keep me happy, that when you’re here I can’t help but smile like nothing is wrong?

                But I did not do any of these things, I hugged you, I tried to not see that look I feared for so long. I didn’t stamp my feet, I did not scream and rant, I tried to smile like the world was okay.  I couldn’t tell you not to go, I couldn’t hold you back, you didn’t like the gone part, but you liked your marines. I wasn’t about to tie you down when your not a person to be tied down.

                To answer your question, yes, in the long run, I will be okay, maybe at the current time I am not, maybe at the current time I’m not strong. But that doesn’t mean later on I won't build back up my strength. For now I will wear my marine necklace, I will keep your memories in the pages of my mind as delicate flowers, I will feel your hand in mine, and I will have to close my eyes as my numb mind starts to get its feeling back, stinging and biting with a vengeance. I will be glad to get the feeling back, to be able to look at an empty page and freely write even if my cheeks get wet from it.

                    Now though I question if I can go on. I know I will continue on to be okay, and that writing this was good, but while writing this, I broke a little, just that little bit to ground me, to get my feeling back, which I feel like is good, yet also bad. I toss, and I turn, trying to sleep, but I cant, not anymore, I lay there looking out my window flooding with what if questions that are meant for another letter, another time, another rant. For now I will content my restless soul with the fact that I can not sleep any more. It’s like im looking around to find something to give to you to hold on with, like you will fly away without me to hold on to you, not to tie you down, but to have a feel of you. Hopefully one of these restless nights I will find a piece to lasso the wild side of you with.

                                “It is hard to love a wild thing, you are always left watching the door not knowing when you will get hurt next.”         -East

                You told me a quote once of a marine, this one I have had in my mind for years, not only because I love this book, but because I always manage to love the wild things, the bad guys, the ruffians, more than tame, city, good guys. Every guy dreams of a good girl that’s bad only for him, and every girl dreams of a bad guy that’s only good for her, I do not think we are abnormal in this aspect.

                If I wanted to, I could look on the bright side of this. Sometimes it is good to look and see the bright side. A lot of couples can’t handle distance, so may couples spend every single day, or every other day together, and when they go a weekend without seeing each other one or both of them get annoyed. But you and I know that we can successfully survive three months, now most people would try gradual progression, like 3 months, 5 months, 6 months apart. We go from 3 months to 12 months, which is just how life goes.

                So, marine, I wish you well in your one month of California, then Florida, I will be okay here, I don’t think I am numb any longer after writing this, but  hope to see you sooner than in a year.

                                                               -your restless door watcher