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Welcome to start of things.

In late July of 2012 I went through something life changing. The woman I loved and planned a future with decided she was no longer happy and needed her freedom back. Crushed and unsure what to do, I drove.

I ended up at a random bar in Minneapolis, where everyone was a stranger. My plan was to drink until I forgot but something came over me that changed that. One beer in and my pen was soaring through pages with words of expression. Suddenly I no longer felt the need to kill the voided space and welcomed it with open arms as it brought my writers block to an end. This is what I sat down and wrote that day. It is the reason I decided to continue writing this book and have decided to publish it.

Long Legs in the Twin Cities will be out Summer of 2013.

Ellie walks around head consistently held high and passes it off as effortless to her peers. So wrapped up in the world of giving, loving and caring that she lacks time to reflect on self-worth. It’s truly a shame; seeing the value in the flawed, yet focused on the only crack in perfection. No sign of guilt, which reeks of independence and general strength women her age can’t yet comprehend. Wise beyond years, held back by fears. It is the tragic tale of the few malcontents that choose to remain incognito, faking their fleeting of despair.

That is what made us what we became; two intelligent, emotional, society-rejecting beings, hungry for love and nurture based off of years of abandonment and betrayal. Ellie and I built something no one else may ever understand, dodging acceptability and distance, gleaming and dreaming to beat all odds. It was beautiful, and perfect in every impractical way. Uncharted territories, curiosity and desire led to a chapter in my life that will never be matched. It was a union founded on love; the kind of love that was destined to be faced with hardships but meant to withstand them.

The first time we kissed was admittedly awkward which proved from the get-go that this meant more; I was in my head, worried Ellie wouldn’t be impressed and that never happened. Our first date was a testament towards what the rest of our relationship deserved– hours and hours into the night discussing our lives and listening on a level that felt surreal. More of that and we may have survived the deconstruction period. Unaware when it began, it was clear that it did but still foggy as to why.

I was blindsided by her goodbye. The last few years of my life had been dedicated to building and integrating her into my future. Never before had I seen a glimpse of children or white picket fences, rarely had I even seen a future. I always had felt that life would peak before someone would come along and plant those desires into my subconscious. Ellie did a great job at this. She had me buying rings and sacrificing selfish young adult actions. Weekends were spent day-tripping to quiet places where we wouldn’t be bothered.  I thought we had it all.

Engagement came early, but I was confident in asking, knowing when those future emotions were drummed up that this was something serious. It was a secret we kept, but a promise we held. When times got tough she threatened to cancel it, and that was always what made me stop for a second and try a little harder.

But the effort was pointless apparently. She decided that all in all, there would be no future with me. My world came crashing with confusion and heartbreak. Why wasn’t I enough? Why couldn’t I try harder? Why wasn’t she satisfied with my attempts? Was this all my fault?

There’s no one answer, it was a conglomerate of built up angst, emotional displacement and projections of unflattering mental health issues, not my suspected motive: infidelity. Though, she really always felt too loving to be capable of causing that much intentional pain. That is really what makes this the hardest; 2 1/2 years and most would have many negatives with anyone but not with Ellie. That’s what always made her so special. She’s honest, with herself and those involved. She’s mature enough to understand games are fruitless.

The unfathomable part is that in Ellie’s mirror, none of this positivity is reflected even though it radiates from her pores. The smile always seemed too perfect and genuine to be a lie so I will choose to believe that it wasn’t. The memories will always bring tears, both happy and sad so they will become barred off until grain alcohol brings her back to life, which ultimately proves they can’t be ignored.

My room now generates enough anxiety to power a steam engine. Places where she once laid suffocate me. Hell, the same blank space where she set her phone would probably cause a panic attack if occupancy threatened to disregard the hollowness forever placed there. The movies we shared now set on alternate endings forever. Call me jaded but knowing these words mean nothing more than ink strokes on paper make me feel cheated.

Sitting at one of the fine watering well establishments we used to frequent together it comes crashing. This placement, along with many strangers in passing over the last week, questioned the tears but did nothing but open the flood gates further. Constantly wondering how Ellie is and what she’s doing puts me in a dark place and once again I’m choking back salty streaks of memories and regrets while writing this. To go on, moving seamlessly is easier when surrounded by people who are impartial and active but when solidarity arrives I crumble into raw emotion and obliteration.

Writing this is like ripping open fresh wounds with tongs made of salt but I feel that it’s necessary. I’ve always relied on words and their tangibility to make sense of chaos and distress. Regurgitate them until they make sense or develop a purpose. Part of me buys into the idea that more expressive letters and excerpts of our life presented to her would have changed the result but the more sensible side of me knows that’s not true. She doesn’t give a damn about words, no Ellie needs to see it in action and coming to culmination.

Was I too late to pull the trigger? That question will never quit haunting which provides validity that I was. She just wanted to be loved. Was it that hard for myself to show the most amazing woman in the world she was loved? Apparently. That will always deteriorate ones self-esteem. Does she ever want me back? Or should I dis-associate? Those who know me best know that’s not possible. Ellie’s got a part of me that I’ll never get back and it’s the best part: her.


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