Since November I have been attempting to write a novel (though my waves of inspiration are both sporadic and fleeting). Since I am heading to Los Angeles today I thought I would share an excerpt from the first chapter. Though I bare so much of my soul in this space on a daily basis for whatever reason it makes me nervous to share this “other” type of writing (whatever other means here). Please be gentle with me and understand that the excerpt is just a piece of a chapter and is still a work in progress. Have a lovely weekend, I can’t wait to update you with the details of my trip to California when I return!
It was odd because sometimes I felt lonelier in his arms than I’d ever felt on all the nights I was alone leading up to the day I met him. Because, by having him, I had created a space for him in my heart, a space that up until this point had been occupied by whatever matter fills the organ we associate with love. As I grew to trust him, to love him, I carved out the matter (the heart gunk) as if I were spooning out goop from a pumpkin. I made just enough space for him there, in my heart and just as soon as I cleared it I realized how absolutely awful the whole space was. Now I had the strangest feeling of dread that once he was gone (which he undoubtedly would be at some unknown point in the future) the space would remain and rather than feeling okay, like I had all along, I would feel empty.
The idea of this emptiness felt like impending doom. I could never fully enjoy the warmth and passion of the moments we lay entwined with one another as there was a small part of me that always turned introspectively to await the coming of the empty space. I had a bad feeling the empty space was growing larger the longer I allowed him to stare into my soul with his perfect sunflower speckled blue eyes. I thought back to the void, no longer the emptiness within me but this time the one within him. I wondered how big the empty space in his soul was and who had placed it there to begin with.
I knew his void hadn’t formed around me the way mine had around him and I was under the distinct impression that no one had such a space without first consciously creating it on his or her own to allow someone else in. We weren’t born with big gaping holes in our souls but instead created them under the illusion of happiness and romance. It was funny in a masochistic sort of way.