we used to spend the time we had between class and soccer (her gymnastics and cheerleading) somewhere off campus, anywhere. often we’d hurry across the spit-shined bubble of…
It feels to me like a combination of fears, this perspective. Fear that this idea of love allows for the love you have today (or might have tomorrow) to fall short of forever. Fear that your standards for love should be so high that only one experience should ultimately meet them, and the resulting fear that the only way to recognize and defend the one you want to last is to make (and attempt to live by) a cosmic ultimatum.