You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello

But goodbye wins.  

I am blaming the planets.  I could blame God but I can’t because I think God shows and there are signs all around that ultimately things will likely be OK.

There is a shadow of doubt, however.

Let’s talk about the past 48 hours.  One woman who I have loved for years - she left me with rapidity almost a couple of years ago - decided along with me that it was time to say goodbye.  It’s time to say goodbye.  There were many tears and we are still great friends but talking every day isn’t helping any one.

And then there is the woman I love now and who does not love me and never will, I guess. There is her and she and it.  It is the thing that surrounds me now, my love for her has enveloped me and there is nothing I can do about it.

Does love matter?  I do not think so any more.  If you love someone and they don’t love you back it’s meaningless isn’t it?  

I love someone and they do not love me.  I considered myself the luckiest person in the world to have met her and fallen in love with her.  She does not feel lucky at all for having met me.

She is everything to me.  I am nothing to her.

Somehow I can hear Hemingway speaking to me over beer somewhere:  If she does not love you then she does not love you.  It’s the end.

But what if I don’t want it to be over?   

Hemingway:  You have no choice.  If she does not love you, then there is no use struggling against it.  Look, when you hook a trout it fights, the good ones do anyway, but eventually one of you wins and one of you loses.  You have lost this fight.

I have lost this fight.   A great boxer can lose and realize he was not good enough that one time when it mattered.  I have lost.

The ring is terrible.  I will go into it again, not old enough to know better, not smart enough to avoid it.

I’ll fight again.  It hurts.

Once writing has become your major vice and greatest pleasure only death can stop it. Financial security then is a great help as it keeps you from worrying. Worry destroys the ability to write. Ill health is bad in the ratio that it produces worry which attacks your subconscious and destroys your reserves.

Ernest Hemingway — Paris Review (via hamez)

Financial security. Well, I’m screwed. 

(via fuckyeahhemingway)

(via fuckyeahhemingway)