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I am, i fear, afraid, terrified, of what I've craved the most.
one can never fall in love again, for the first time.
first love is naive, there is only the most abstract understanding of how vulnerable you truly are.
first love is for children and fools.
Love, with a capital "l" love like in harsh French movies or a Patrick Marber play,
this is the love of the courageous, the slightly masochistic, the knowingly foolish.
this is the trembling possibility that occupies my mind tonight.

I'm re-reading a book "the hottest state" by ethan hawke (yes that ethan hawke)
it is a book I've loved, for years, it is a book i read before i knew about first love, and it is a book about first love. I remember reading the book, a book that within its first few pages informs the reader that this love story will end in heartbreak, i remember that i used to read it with a palpable anticipation. I would devour each page that unfolded their love story for me.
I didn't know enough then to understand the word "heartbroken" it was an abstract, no more understood than death.
But tonight, as i read it again i realized my heart was gently pounding, perhaps merely tapping against my chest, in awful anticipation. Because when i read this girl, Sarah, i know not only that she will break his heart, hurt him, but i understand why and that makes it all the worse.

and so i am in that spot. somewhere across an ocean is a possibility, one that i would have once dove into, blindly, foolishly, and whole. It is this possibility that scares me. Because i know what it means, and my heart, my battle wearied heart, is cautious, and would like to live in world where there are some guarantees, or at the very least a warranty if things should go wrong.

i don't live in that world. i live in a world where on a good day i decide i will reach out to this possibility and see if she's reaching back.