**very old writings**
The rise and fall of your chest is a comfort to me. You are asleep, snoring softly. Outside past the balcony the ocean waves crash on the shore. It is another sleepless night for me.
I walk to the balcony, wrapped up in a blanket, light a cigarette and take a drag. What am I doing here, with you? I should be alone. It is all so complicated. My real-life seems a million miles away here. There is no ghetto apartment, no sirens, no infertility, no money troubles in my mind.
Just you sleeping, me naked on the balcony smoking, writing my deepest darkest thoughts, wondering why I am the way I am. I love mine and you love yours. But somehow, somewhere in the middle, we love each other too. How does that work?
It has shaken me to the core. I don’t know who I am anymore, or what I believe. I thought once I found my soulmate I’d live my happily ever after, that I would never love another again. So how can this be? No one tells you how much work it is to love. It is not effortless. You must love through the bad, and the heartache because no matter how much you love each other, you will still cause each other heartaches.
Why does no one tell you that? Am I the only one floating along, trying to figure out how to make all of this work?