Just Because

The most tender form of intimacy is the habit of doing things without reason. Buying her a sweater on the 3rd of December. Getting her flowers when she doesn't expect them on a Tuesday. A picture of her outfit when she's going shopping for groceries in that black jacket and messy hair. A picture of a dog on the metro being a really good boy or a sneaky snarky text about the person seated beside you on the flight back home, knowing full well she is going to ask you to behave. The most tender form of intimacy is sharing everything mundane. Yes. You are my person, and I wish you could endure this moment right here with me. But you cannot, so look. Here's a picture of the soup I made. Or this shirt I just got. Just because. I lied when I listed my favourite things to do with you. Right at the top would be simple co-existence where you and I could breathe the same air together. Everything else, extra. The most tender form of intimacy is facing the bleakness of the future together, in sickness and in health. Yes we had a fight last night, but I feel a fever coming; shut up and make me some soup. No don't take a picture. I'm right here in the room with you stupid. You send the picture anyway. Just because. We spend so much of our lives trying to make it mean something, or trying to make a difference, that we forget to stop and look around, and take in the fact that our lives are actually lived in the here-and-now. In the boring, insufferable seconds that turn into minutes that turn into hours as the suns rises, sets, and rises again. The horizon looks so appealing that we forget that getting to it is just one breaststroke after another. The horizon looks so appealing that you forget how far you have come swimming in this deep blue of a world you brave through alone. My sunshine. You are blind to your own light. But I get it. It's only fair, because the powers-that-be always have a sense of humour. Just because. The most tender form of intimacy is doing something that is trivial to you, but means a lot more to someone else. I'll give you the space when you feel to overwhelmed by everything inside and out. Not because we decided to meet half-way between our dysfunction. I'll be the last text in our conversation in a fight. Not because you can use it like a candle to find your way back to me. I love you. Not because I am selfless or because I want to prove to you that you're not hard to love. But because I can.