from far away

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. We know it, we’ve heard it, and yet somehow it’s not so true. Well, it is and it isn’t. Absence, I think, makes the heart grow crazy.

From far away things can look so magical and mystical. But, you say, “Oh, I know we’re not perfect. I don’t expect that.” It doesn’t matter; you’re playing the “absence makes the heart grow crazy” game because you’re imagining what isn’t and telling yourself that you’re being realistic. You’re not. He didn’t walk through the door and so you don’t know if the perfection or the messiness would be there. Maybe it would be magical and mystical. Maybe it would be the messiest mess in history and yet worth every moment. Maybe it would crash and burn. Realism in this game is subjective and subjective is a dangerous word. It’s like no speed limit on the highway. It’s like swinging doors without hinges. The only realism is walking through doors, making the mystical, physical. And you can’t control another person’s walking ability. (Notice the word “ability”) What you can control are your imaginings and the acceptance of the absolutes that you are given. If someone walks, or even wants to walk, through a door you’ll know. You won’t have to tell yourself you’re being realistic because that word will be redundant. Wait for it. Then move on.

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