The former moment ended in the only way it could have, assuming full context properly held, yet it was the most painful and most trying--not necessarily because of the depth of the investment but more so because of the distance of the fall from potential to actual. "Wherever something stands, something will stand beside it"--except when it doesn't; then it occurs, that dichotomy that portrays intimacy while denying desire. I cannot footrace with ghosts. I cannot fill a physical space with [ethereal, emotional] light. I cannot accept one without the other--no matter which comes first. Neither should You or anyone or everyone.
The latter moment ended the the less favorable of two ways, but [only?] because of my blind naiveté, my inability to act on a value because of my fear of betraying a Platonic "ideal." [This foolishness needs neither debate nor explication.] And while there was/is emotional distress, it doesn't approach intractable. Yes, perhaps I kept a
healthier distance but more so, I think, because there was seemingly no contradiction--no dichotomy, no desiring the unearned, no wanting something without that something to stand beside it. There was acknowledgement and concession--benevolence and understanding--honesty and caution. Ultimately, there was respect.
Both moments have a sorry-grateful ending--for what I learned and what I could/n't have done. For the former writes on the tablet a parable of what it means to love myself and to know the difference between selfishness and rational selfishness, and the latter, directly atop that parable, a regretful-happy etude with bombastic lyrics and melancholy tone--one I'll hum for awhile until its theme becomes remixed in life's greater symphony.