Ten years ago,
my partner made me a promise. I am ever so close to collecting on that promise. Fortunately, I wasn’t ready before. No wasted time. I am now, and my life is coming together just in time. Almost like my kinky guardian angel is looking out for me (of course she is, she always is!). Still, I find myself on uncertain ground.
It isn’t that I doubt my partner’s word. Or even in his ability to deliver. I trust him as I trust hardly anyone else. But his promise isn’t dependent on just him, but on others. These others, because of circumstances, couldn’t be told everything. Certainly not explicitly.
And I don’t know what I’m going to do, if they aren’t okay with the plan.
If it even is what you could call a plan. Maybe more of a mission statement. Even now, well, I know what I could ask for. I do not know if I will ask for it.
I don’t know if they’ll be okay with it, or if they won’t.
Maybe they’ll be happy with the plan. Maybe I’m being too insecure. Maybe they want my happiness as much as I believe they do. But what is my happiness? Ugh. Being told you can have whatever you want should make a person happy, not stressed! What is wrong with me?
I really don’t know what will happen. But, oddly enough, that doesn’t scare me.
At least I’ll know. We’ll talk. We’ll figure it out. Together. I just want to know. After almost ten years. To have some sense of surety, even though I know that doesn’t much exist. But at least some semblance of stability would be nice. That’s all I expect.
Thank you to my friends who have patiently let me work through my own little hell. I needed you. You probably don’t even know how much. You’ve got me through to where I needed to be.
Now, whatever happens, it will at least happen. Whatever happens, the past was worth it. The fight was worth it. Soon enough, I get to find out precisely how much it was worth.
I’m utterly tired of not knowing.