I am still awake this night. It is the first day of October. This is a welcome night, this beginning. The rain still falls outside, and it's gotten heavier in the last moment. I'm looking out the window, but I can't see anything. I'm almost afraid that, if I stare too long at the blackness, I will see something. I can hear the rain falling outside all of the windows in this apartment. In another room, a fan is on. In yet another room, my past slumbers.
In 162 hours, I will see my future as I lay eyes, yet again, on my soon-to-be home. In 167 hours, I will be lying in my love's arms. He awaits me as I await him, with excitement, anticipation, and adoration. I look forward to nothing more than wrapping myself in him, feeling his lips on mine, and looking into the eyes that have become my home and my joy. I think of holding him, of stroking his hair, and of falling into bed with him. I look a bit beyond that to the day I don't have to say goodbye to him anymore, of not having any more days pass by that I can't see his smile, and to feeling his hand gently caressing my face every day.
But tonight, as I look forward to this future, I am again unable to sleep. This fitful night passes by too slowly, as I'm sure six more will as well. I take this gladly, because I know what awaits me at the end. Nights not so black and fitful. Nights filled with the sound of my love whispering to me, and his breathing as he sleeps. Nights sleepless for the act of love. Nights just before a new day full of hope.
But for now, I'll likely not sleep for another hour. I'll mentally prepare for the coming week, month, and lifetime. I'll watch some television and have some more grapes. And hopefully, I will be far less serious on the morrow. Perhaps I will write next about the upcoming Zombie Walk, and the shenanigans and awesomely nerdy zombie themed pick-up lines he and I will use on each other while we give PGH a public display of zombie affection.
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