The Paul Project
I guess I should explain why I’m writing this, even if it’s just going to be deleted once -or if- I finish this thing. Or maybe it’s going to stand the test of time, a note-to-myself made public for all prying eyes to see.
Though if I’m being honest, it’s probably just for you to see.
Alaska. I never thought I’d see myself here. I’ve started writing this story in all sorts of places. I’ve backtracked and skipped ahead and tried to start at the beginning and tried to start at the end, but how can I even begin to put this situation into words?
Alaska. That’s where Paul wanted his story to end. And so, I write this, a tribute to him and his hopeful recovery. Or, a journal of my thoughts and feelings surrounding my life right now?
No, the ramblings of a madman, clearly. Incoherent thoughts intertwined with brief glimpses into clarity. Lately I struggle with all of it. I hate most of it.
I hate everything I make.
Every day it gets harder and harder to put things into words.
Because of him. Because of her. Because of me, and my infatuation with wanting things I can’t have.
But Paul, you deserve to know I’m sorry for what I did to you. Consider this, whatever it may end up being, an apology.
I don’t want it to be about me like you said before. I don’t want to go on being a success on your part.
I want you to be a success with me.
And maybe if you have something physical, something to remind you of how I see you, how special you are, how much I love you and how much I need you, maybe I can save you.
Maybe I can save myself.
