I want forever.

I wanted forever before my brain could even begin to perceive it. I guess I still can't, but I am closer now. A car ride doesn't take forever, but waiting for test results can. Or a text message. Or to fall asleep.

I want forever in this really obvious way, like a bright top with matching shoes. Like genetics. Like death, like loss turned inside out. It can't fix anything, it can't solve anything, but I want it the way I want everything, more. More. More. Waves and waves like the ocean I fear and love at the same time.

I mean, granted, I don't want to turn into a tree, oak or linden, a bird to sing the things I couldn't speak, or turn to stone to have this, but there's days where I think that at least would still the ache. I don't want it to transform me, but maybe it will.

I want it in the way I want a million things, in a way that makes me wonder if I am missing the point. It doesn't make me want it any less. It seems silly to want something so inevitable. It makes me wonder if I am coming at it all wrong. It makes me wonder if I will ever really get it.

For years his passions had been like a nerve that the world jarred on; now at last the aching was soothed, and he could yield himself to love that was neither a torment nor a bore.