Ataraxia

J’s book collection largely consists of self-help books and memoirs written by sarcastic & often cynical, homosexual men. I remember the many times I was in his apartment (long before he would admit I'd had any effect on him) looking through his extensive library. I would stand there and gaze at the books while he was looking, then visually follow his every move and curve when he wasn’t. Words are insufficient when trying to describe how enamored and intrigued I was with this man.

When we started dating we merged our belongings, the arranging of the bookshelves was both captivating and alarming… it’s still a task I don’t take lightly. J is a very introspective man; a closet romantic, if you will. Not in the typical Shakespearean way. Granted, he writes poetry. Amazing poetry. I've read nearly all of them. Even the ones I wasn't supposed to... which is all of them. That's another side he won’t candidly reveal – to me. He's not an open person and he's not an affectionate person, so one rarely sees these extraordinary moments of artistic exertion. Yet it shows... the twinkle in his eye, the subtle way his smile changes and the warmth of his touch.

Now, over the last year I have managed to read nearly all of the well worn books on those shelves. I didn’t just want to be near him, I wanted… want… to know him and I was hoping to find clues on those pages. There were… stories of harrowing childhoods, mislaid loves, triumphing over fear and self-loathing… and distrustful, self proclaimed bachelors.

Each day now, I am hit harder with the realization that there is less and less sharing between us. Less open communication. There are passwords for passwords - that’s how locked down the situation has become. J told me something the other night, that whether it was meant to come out the way it did or not, was still said. The impact that has had on me is overwhelming.

Now, I have lived a lifetime of regrets… jumped before my time, held on too long, said goodbye to people my heart will ache for always. But this time, I have loved life with reckless abandon; tested the very limits of faith and trust and thrown every rule aside, because of him – not in spite. I’ve finally found my muse… my perfect calm.

I am afraid he’s still searching for his.