Fear of the Future

I used to be terrified of dying alone.    But now, I have fears of extinguishing hope.

I’m afraid of tracking dirt across your life.  Because I’ve been places and done things and had the indecency to write a lot of it down.  And for the longest time I was proud of this growing ledger of clever anecdotes and stories and jokes to tell my friends over drinks… but upon meeting you, I wish I had an eraser rather than a history.  I wish I had a blank page empire, rather this long and harrowing tapestry.  But if every black eye and bad choice was what it took to end up with someone as great as you, then I wouldn’t change a thing.

I’m afraid of your parents, and the heavy silhouette they’ve imagined for your Happily Ever After.  From your first baby steps, to your satin graduation caps they’ve been imagining a man deserving of every moment of your glowing laughter.  And when they meet me I’m scared I’ll never measure’ to everything they’ve had in mind.  But I’m determined to show them just who I am, and exactly what my intentions are for you.  Which is to make you happy as frequently and as deeply as I can for as long as I can.  And to buy you cats.  And hello kitty things.  And possibly one day in the future, a genetically engineered hello kitty cat.

 

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