First Week

Dear Mark,

You've been gone just a couple of days. I expected the agony to be ten times worse even by now, but it isn't. I wonder if it will wrosen or if it will just go away once I get your first letter. This situation we are in is so peculiar. I feel fear, but I feel comfort. I'm nothing but happy when I think of you, when I think of our love, because I feel from the depths of the earth that we will be alright. I know from the beat of my heart you belong to me, you are all I need.

Getting life back together seems difficult. You know this routine well- enough things pile up and the surface seems impossible. The most impossible thing to find right now is inspiration. This nonsense with the Sorority is absurd and bringing me down. You're not the only thing I worry about anymore, my future elsewhere is at risk. We got really screwed, really screwed. But I tell you what. Like I feel those drums of summer I'm feeling the drums of revolution. Something is coming. Something is on its way. My speech has been impeccably motivating lately, I'm changing people's minds, I'm moving people's directions. My first revolution is on its way, I can't wait to tell you.

I wonder most what you do, what you think. I think out of anything that is what is most frustrating. We usually tell each other everything from what it is we do to why we do it and what we think while we are doing it. I miss your brain. Sometimes people make the argument that you can miss your relationship more than you miss your partner. At close distance, I can admit, we may miss the aspects of our relationship more than each other necessarily since we get so much of each other. Now, though, my love for you I feel is proved because I miss you as you- person, boyfriend, whatever. I miss Mark entirely.

I wake up every morning completely confused but optimistically at least. I don't know where each day is going to take me, but I am excited to find out. I don't know how sad I will be that I can't tell you about it, but I'm excited to figure it out at the end of the night and write to you. As scared and sad as I get sometimes, I find more invigorating drive in the uncertainty for one reason: We are certain of us, we are certain of ourselves, we are certain of each other.

So, here's to being uncertain in certainty. Here's to you, baby.