Right now, the act of speaking will betray me. Writing will subtract from me. If I could choose to leave this space empty, I would. If I could choose to say nothing, I would. If I could choose to repeat this refrain until I’ve subtracted every last bit of myself, I would. 

Right now is a truth that isn’t ever-present. Right now is an ever-presence. Nearly a year ago, the love of my life told me that all of time is an ongoing series of “right-now’s.” It gave the past less power. It gave the future less power. Everything ever experienced is, was or will be right now. 

A contemplative nature is useless against the lack of an invigorated spirit. I’m still stained by a dichotomy that refuses to lean upon me, between meaning and the lack thereof. 

I’ll continue to vomit across white space until everything’s said and nothing is communicated. Unless I spill something beyond myself. Something that surrounds me. Maybe it’s love. Maybe I despise how easy that would be to fall on.

I’m coming up on a year’s worth of memories with a soul I’ve chosen to remain with for my whole life. Love is something I was always built for but never should’ve been allowed the opportunity to have. It represents my willingness to plunge into a reckless pool of emotions because when pushed, I realize it’s all I live for. 

Are you afraid to speak about what matters to you? Is it just me? Is there a corner of your mind that you frequently scan over for the sake of common conversation? Do you have a platform where somebody will listen? I promise myself that I will continue to speak even when the words take away from me. I am not important enough to be that possessive. 

Another thing I’ve exchanged with my life partner: “Nothing worse is communicated than what is left unsaid.”

I’m afraid of what I’ll forget. Every week that passes, I resent the beautiful things that pass my eyes because of the knowledge that they’ll go away. That’s no way to live life. I say this and yet admit I continue to live life this way. But perhaps so that I’m held accountable for the fallacy. 

I’m exhausted by the things I love, and if I was granted everything my whims desired, some days I would have nothing at all. Many days I find myself wishing for nothing to love and for nothing to love me. The realization of this selfish attitude can further fuel my self-criticism and hatred. 

That’s no way to live life. I don’t want to continue to live life this way. 

Today, I’m still here and so is everything I love. My thoughts and emotions seem to be fighting against me, but I’ll recognize the love in it and continue anyway. Don’t resent what you love because you fear you’ll lose it, because you very well may. Hold it closely for now. 

For now, hold closely.

Anthony Morris is an opinion writer. Contact them at [email protected].