The Rambler

Let’s face it. I have nothing important to say. That’s why I insist on the freewrite each morning. That’s why I start here because I know and even worse I know that you know that I am nothing more than a rambler when I think I’m a storyteller.

Heat index was somewhere in the oh-my-fuck-my-lungs-have-melted range yesterday and a few days before and still a few more to come. This is the part of summer like the coldest part of winter in Iowa. Only the brave and the poor go outside.

This is what I wanted to say to you. I think it’s what I’ve been trying to figure out how to say all along. No, I know it is. I’ve just been putting all the words together and it’s taken a long time. Such a very, very long time.

You trusted me. Way more than anyone ever trusted me. And I loved that. I trusted you that way too. I still do. I just saw that, well, you were putting faith into me and what I had to say like I was some sort of guru (which let’s face it, I am), and not just parsing through my rants for stuff you needed and trusting yourself instead. You started immersing yourself completely in my life and I needed you to fly on your own. You needed you to fly. And I did not know how to help you do that anymore. So I guess some part of me knew we both needed you to stop trusting me so much so you could stand completely back up on your own, but I also didn’t want you to stop believing in the good things, the positive things, the lessons we were sharing about life and what is really important. Somewhere in between, I lost my footing and ended up in a chasm. 

And you lost faith in both of us.