I feel - pain, the pain that twists my mind, my body into becoming something that they shouldn't ever be, into something that I once was, so long ago, now.
So long ago...
Pain. I thought I understood it, once, its necessity, its purpose in our lives. I thought I understood so much then. Perhaps I did - but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. It is that which leads me to this new pain: not mine, although it calls to me more urgently than any personal injury I have ever sustained. Not my pain; not mine, but his.
I wanted him to have a happy life, to taste the sweetest joy, to drink of the brightest hopes. I had overlooked the possibility that pain and suffering could be the millstones upon which his happiness would be ground. By blessing him, I'd cursed him without ever realizing it; and I never had the chance to apologize, to tell him how much I loved him - how much I love him.
I still can't tell him. Words are meaningless now, and although our minds are close, we do not have the complete understanding we could share if we were to become one. My actions only permit any communication with him, but I know he cannot see what I want him to see, not completely; but perhaps what he does see is enough. Perhaps what I do is enough, enough to vindicate my decisions all those years ago.
My decision. There was only one that ever mattered, the only one that still matters.
I cannot live in the past anymore than the people around me, although living in the present is almost as difficult in my unique situation. I'm not really a part of their world, not anymore - or do I mean not yet?
The present may be hard to cope with, but the future is a myriad of possibilities - yet only one path may be chosen. I chose my way many years ago, willingly binding myself into a role I could believe in, one in which I could make a difference - especially to him.
He's been so alone since my moment of choice; alone and unloved, untouched by those who surround him - but no longer is that so. Now I surround him, I encompass him, I lift him up when he falls, I heal his wounds as best I can, I let him show the world who he is, and not what others think of him...
I love him. I've always loved him, from the first moment I felt his heat beat beneath my own. It sometimes feels as though the past has returned when we are together. He is the heart of my heart, the soul of my soul - and I will protect him, whatever the cost.
His pain calls to me, striking deeper than my own ever could, and I am moved to rage. More, I do what I can see must be done to keep on protecting my heart and soul from the dangers which we must face - and face them we will, together.
It hurts, however, that I must let him go once more, let him go back to that other world which no longer has a place for me. I don't begrudge him his ability to return, but I would spare him the pain I know he will face there, despite the hope that it may someday magnify his joy to that which I dreamed.
He doesn't need to go back just yet, though, so I have my chance to cradle him close to me for a few moments longer - a few minutes, a few hours, a few days...
Someday, perhaps, for all eternity.