A Reflection on a Time of Life Come to Pass

I know there’s something there. Yeah, there’s something there, but I can’t get to it now and I don’t know why that is. Maybe it’s got more to do with the fact that time has ripped the two of us apart than I even want to believe or give credit for. She’s in the fuckin’ navy and I’m fuckin’ anti-anything-to-do-with-the-government, no matter how minimal or even maximal the involvement. Staying naïve about such things is really all I strive for and that’s my choice, so I’m allowed. But that night we had at the bar some time ago was so real to me – to both of us I’m certain – that I was certain I’d found it and I went to her some time later, not being able to see her while I was there, and I’m going back, that being the place I need to be, uncertain of whether I’ll be able to see her even then, which causes me to question the whole of reality at its very core. Life is so easy for me and this, when it’s supposed to be completely opposite from what it is, and, from my prerogative, it’s hard for about everyone else around and they all just come to the point of accepting that as the thing about it when our roles should absolutely be reversed and I’m starting to feel like it really causes an offense between them and me. Even with all that being said, though, I’m still not convinced you understand the entirety of what I’m feebly attempting to tell you because, if you want to know the truth, there have been countless times, it feels like, where I’ve come to the brink of retreating on what I believe in, only to be saved, in a sense, to be pushed back into believing that my set of beliefs was right to begin with by a totally faithless grouping of circumstances that came to pass. Due to the places where my mind’s taken me, though, romance can no longer be what it was meant to be in the first place for me because the way I feel for her, I can never feel for anybody else, and I can never feel more for anybody else than I do for her either, but, at the same time, there can never be anything between us and the trouble with miscommunication is that I’m left now pondering if that’s what she’s afraid of.