121116

Into My Own
R. Frost

One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.

They would not find me changed from him they knew--
Only more sure of all I thought was true.

120909

Thief-

Would it have made a difference, if I had followed through with it? If I had arrived, unannounced and unexpected, surely dressed to kill? Your mother, your family, none of you ever cared to discern the reasons I ruined our love, never bothered to hold you accountable for your devious nature...would it really have mattered, me being present to witness your promise to another? Doubtful. Doubtful because I would never have left my vehicle, no one would ever remember me even arriving...my acknowledgement would be made from a distance, making no difference to anyone but me.

You see, Thief, your sincerity is revered, and your declarations tend to be puzzling, but all the same, a person must be allowed their own destruction. Obviously, I would never declare your wedding to be some form of destruction, but your concept of life and love certainly destroyed itself long before you came to the alter in the hands of your husband-to-be. Do not be quick to judge, either, there is no jealousy between us, there is only honesty and veneration for the individual who allowed me into her life for a short period of time...it is my sincere belief that character once meant a great deal more to others, even complete strangers, than it does now. Our society has indeed destroyed itself for nothing they can remember, though that is a discussion for another time.

There is patience in this, in writing, which delivers me beyond the perception or reputation I leave for myself in the minds of others. The idea that I can do no wrong, that life is a clever fight, a chess game where style counts for as much as the checkmate. You never thought so, Thief, I remember well, my character suffered for the immature tendencies of my youth and simply for the fact we were both in the right or wrong place, at the right or wrong time. Our opinions have differed on this, depending on when or where we have responded...

I apologize for the cynicism. In part.

I do not intend to pursue your happiness, I assure you. Too much has changed and for this, I truly am sorry. I am sorry, Thief.

-Tony

060215

 Dearest.

 

It was my intention to see you last night, but our rotating patrol schedule leaves my platoon little free time to break away from duties. I have only now been granted the opportunity to write, I wanted to apologize for leaving the motorpool so quickly, but you understand how things work. I will admit I was looking forward to seeing you, perhaps I will make more excuses to randomly file maintenance paperwork over the next ten months. Although, your fellow soldiers in the office are a bit intimidating, and they seem quite interested in us...or maybe just me, I’m not sure, though it is a little uncomfortable to try and speak with you when I can feel five additional sets of eyes on us...I will try to get used to it, the best I can.

I am unsure of how best to tell you, so instead I am going to write in order to edit my presentation: Dearest, you are unique in every way I can see, quiet, thoughtful, and entirely honest when you speak. I believe you to be genuinely beautiful, and your character is intriguing. I look forward to spending time with you, away from our duties, you are something I never expected to find so far from home ...I hope I am not being too forward at this point in admitting my affection for you, but I am thankful for your friendship. We have only known each for two months, but forgive me for seeing you as something I want and need in my life, an honest companion.

There were many difficulties leading up to deployment, personally I felt as though I had been let down by a number of people, people who meant a great a deal to me. The flight leaving the states was defeating, I had nothing to look back on, and seemingly nothing to look forward to. I suppose that I had begun to accept things for what they were during our transition in Kuwait, keeping busy became the excuse for personal purpose. But then I saw you, I saw you and I immediately stopped, I wanted to know your name...if only you knew what your composure revealed to me, what it made me think. So I found out your name, and once or twice found you from a distance, I may have even been caught staring...who’s to say?

I hope to see you again soon, and if you do not mind I will keep writing you.

-Tony

041111

Thief.

I must say, I have never found myself to be in such an obsessive state of mind. Not for someone, not for you, but for the inability to control my own destiny. Distance had yet to carry the impact those around us warned of, cautioned us against, and today distance forgave nothing between us. This man, David, he is a metaphor for cruelty, for weakness, my love for you is undelivered and forgotten as his hand momentarily replaces mine. This recently finished phone conversation yielded more than I can believe in, Thief, and I regret that my anger is driving my pen, insinuating a hostility I do not sincerely believe in. All the same, this letter will need to be continued at a later time, my goodbye is still impressing itself on my heart and hand. Anger is, perhaps, a useless emotion no matter the time or place, though I wish there was more you could have convinced me of over the phone.

With two hours to my favor, I am waiting to return your call until later this evening. I have elected to finish this letter before attempting to reach you, in order to deliver my impatience to paper rather than your attempts to rationalize your actions. I am sitting outside my barracks room, on a corner flight of third-story steps leading around to the building's opposite side. There is just enough light to write by, and the holiday weekend has allowed for empty commons in this building and those adjoining. I am thankful for the solitude, though it only aggravates the understanding I cannot confront you, I cannot ask him to step aside, I cannot fulfill the enabling void between us. Thief, can you not stop yourself? Can you not imagine the chances we will be allowed to take, should patience and confidence define our love?

It is not worth the effort to distinguish the differences between us, Thief, unlike the telephone discussion we shared earlier on this day. While I would like to made a point, an argument, what good would it do, here, arriving in your hands in three days time? Perhaps there is no point to be made, because the sound of your voice reveals my own shortfalls, my own ruins...I looked to you, Thief, for love long before you took notice, I cornered your heart without permission or hesitance. I have not yet given you the opportunity to respond in kind, and I worry this is your choice, that you do not share my desire for more of what we could offer each other. This man, David, he restrains me, and I will not stand for it, you may dream of him but he will not touch you while I watch on.

I do wish there is more for us to say, I do write this letter with affection and sincerity. Please accept it in kind.

-Tony

090416

Dearest.

At opportune points in our lives, our paths can be redetermined by unique means, precisely measured and forcibly accountable. We have survived, Dearest, but far from the life intended to be made for the other, and clearly nothing of happiness, or tomorrow's promises. I believe the opportunity I am facing now is of just this sort, I refuse to entertain the idea you have supported this, called for this, or are receiving this letter without frustration. Socialized life can be dangerously orientated, and perhaps at this moment and those to immediately follow, you and I shall see just how dangerous it can be. Survival is nothing to be proud of at this point.

Space is limited, though thankfully I have been afforded the means to write you. For the most part, there is little noise, no conversation, and perhaps more reflection than I give those around me credit for. I am not having any difficulty distancing myself from anyone, it is in my sincere opinion that they could care less about me, as I them. No windows, no clock, just lights on, then off, then on again, with intermittent servings of food. A male who appears to be of the same age as myself eventually makes his introductions, he appears to be in want of someone to talk to, to pass the time, to stay focused. He has twelve days remaining, having already endured four, and he is comfortable confessing his sins to me. His honestly is astounding, but also reassures my belief concerning my own situation, definitively that I do not belong here, that I am not deserving of such confinement.

I have been called, and those surrounding me are urging me to pack my things, and prepare to leave. I feel confident, like a champion, these people who I felt such a distance from are suddenly encouraging me, and they are genuinely happy for me. Still unfamiliar with the process I am involved in, I disregard the questions which had been turning in my mind throughout the night, I quickly gather my things and take direction from the guard at the door. I feel as if I have left behind friends, though I will never know their names, or recognize them beyond the door through which I have just passed. Still, more than these social soldiers, I will remember them for their spirit, and their tolerance, for all the good they intended and nothing else.

When you read this, I will not yet be home, but I will be closer to you than I have ever been. Love me, Dearest, do not abandon what we have built together, for the injustices of a stranger. Their words amount to nothing when brought against our love, our commitment, and our fate together will not suffer for their lies. I will be home soon...wait for me.

-Tony

090130

Darling

This evening should not be happening, I am sure you realized this even before I arrived. That being said, I cannot help but be glad to be here...perhaps neither of us has changed so much after all. The design of your home is vintage, classic, as I expected it should be, there is a baby asleep in the other room and your friend has inhabited the common area...I expected more than one to join us? No matter, I came to see you, I came to speak with you about the lives we have each been living, and the reasons for which they may not be so different. After all, we still belong, do we not? We still appreciate the love we shared, just 4 years ago? Do you realize, Darling, how much life conflicts with itself? Do you know the sort of friction I bring about simply for remembering you? Now I am here, in your home, with your family, and I have never felt so uneasy about something I refuse to be without. Even this letter is conflicting, it has purpose but the logic is unreasonable.

I am writing, slowly, listening to you and your friend make small talk. The atmosphere is indeed uncomfortable, and there is at least one person here who does not belong. I keep quiet, afraid to speak for fear of ruining the moment, or reminiscing...I believe the reasons for which I am visiting are all too clear. It is a powerless struggle, Darling, with you perched upon an easy chair, glancing at me, willing me to speak, to smile, to show some sort of life. But I cannot. I do not return the favor.

If not fate, I could offer no other reason for my apprehension. I always figured you would be the one who knew me best, no matter the days gone by or adverse words spoken. All these years, I never truly believed our hearts had created such a distance, such an opposition to what we ourselves had lived within. Remember, Darling, a man's words are only true if lives on them, if he values them as he does nothing else. The material attractions I see in your life, they are troubling, you fixate on them and it reveals your character. The one you listen to is gripped with jealousy, he controls you, he has changed you. I feel this in you, I realize this is the reason I cannot speak, it is because you are no longer you.

I am gathering my things, I must leave now. I will leave you this letter but much more I cannot promise at this time. Write me, I will wait to hear from you.

-Tony

120908

Thief.

I sincerely wish you to receive this letter, if only for the thread by which our memories survive. Left to its own devices, our legacy has divided upon itself countless times, reduced to fragments of its original form and splendor. Perhaps this is a point which only I care to acknowledge, so please, do not believe it is my intention to hold you accountable with the words written here. I have heard the news, and though it was never meant for me to hear, I wish you nothing but the best. Your mother was always very proud of you, and I have taken it upon myself to no longer hold this against her. It was wrong for me to do in the first place.

Interesting, is it not, the way in which we took our leave from the other? Even now, seven years later, I am still resorting to a written letter to inform you of my frustrations, my questions, and random thoughts. I suppose I will wait, as always, for the response to arrive...though it likely never will. I am spiteful, yes, but not ingenuous, the fact that you left me your affection with just three hours remaining will never fail to fascinate me, to remind me anything sincere is worthy and always possible. I left that morning in a cattle car, unaware of where I was going, or truly why, but I cannot say I was not loved, or now, thankful.

Most people would not absorb the impact of such a lifestyle change the way I did, which is not to say you never made sacrifices. But the change, when recounted, is devastating for all it failed to yield in sincerity, purpose, and direction. Direction is pivotal to love, it is what distinguishes between promise and tolerance between two people and how it continuously builds upon its own design. Texas was simply too far, too fast, a distance too tangible to reinvent for our own intentions.

I am not at a loss for words, Thief, when it comes to your memory. Though I could not tell, our road was winding long before we initially parted, and I mistakenly sent you to fend for yourself. The romance is telling, defining both the high and low points of our relations, and I likely give myself more credit than I deserve. After all, the outcome never changes no matter how the story is told, or who tells it. I have heard the news Thief, and I must not withhold my congratulations for your happiness. But I cannot overlook asking you why the winding road which led to you such happiness has been dismissed?

-Tony