Maybe you will stop loving after I destroy your new shirt again by overheating it in the dryer for the 100th time. If that's the limit, I will stop doing laundry after destroying your 99th shirt. I will take over washing dishes and vacuuming the floor and beg you to be in charge of the laundry.
Maybe you will no longer love me if I sell your computer to someone for no reason without telling you or if I give make you eat rice with boiled weird meat for more than 3 weeks.
I need to know the boundary so that I won't cross it. But I will be close. I will keep moving closer to the boundary then stop myself right before it and run back to a safe place. You will still love me. And I will boast to myself and the indifferent world how I am such a loved thing.
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I was also thinking about that little restaurant in Vilnius we stopped for two soups of the day, two coffees and two lemon kompot after walking for hours away from the city centre. We were both very pleased to come across a cute random little food place in the unfamiliar place, even if the food wasn't that exciting. I still remember that the lemon thing was too bitter.
Isn't a happy relationship made up of little shared joys? Everything else falls apart. Material things or made up values. Most of the time when I say something - anything, a small but non-dismissible part in me feel like I'm just telling a lie, to the other person or to myself. Let's take all sayings at face value. Let's not completely trust anyone, even each other, especially each other. I'm morally corrupt. I'm only nice to you so that you are nice to me back. Let's not make plans.
But let's stick to each other to the days of old age. Having you in my life is my strategy to survive.
Little shared joys. Unexciting lemon kompot. Evil Lithuanian bastards who didn't welcome us. Little shared anti-joys.
Every shared moment, even if passing, is of timeless and immeasurable value.
I say that out of a state of despair, thinking about the inevitable collapse of most stuffs.
But the only infinite thing about my existence is the echoes of little shared joys and anti-joys. These echoes will outlive our days, become a stable part of the universe that physics doesn't know about.
I feel humble as a mediocre creature. I was angry but soon became indifferent about my lack of power. But having you within sight in the same room with me rebuilds and rebuilds in my soul the splendid castle that continues to fall apart and fall apart. The splendid, beautiful castle falls apart and gets rebuilt and falls apart and gets rebuilt.
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