01/21/2312
It’s strange to let yourself back in to love after so long. That’s all it ever was, too; you keeping yourself out of it. It wasn’t that you were undesirable or stank too much of the Earth, or that you didn’t fit in and couldn’t find someone who felt like you. It wasn’t that you weren’t active enough, or going to the right places to meet new people. And it definitely wasn’t like nobody loved you. You just didn’t let yourself be in love with anyone around you.
I often think back to my last days on Mars, and when it came time to leave, I’m filled with the most ungraspable sadness I’ve ever shouldered. I wasted what moments I had there, and I’ll never get them back. I don’t just mean the countless unproductive hours, or weeks of moping about this or that instead of getting outside and living the life I was complaining I never had. I don’t even mean the months I spent going nowhere but down. I mean the few moments I had to embrace love I let slip away, and I’ll never know where they could have taken me. All the potential energy of a dozen lives not lived feedback with nowhere to be released, so they burn as they emerge and stream down my cheeks.
Time isn’t fair. It feels like so long ago since I fled to Earth, but I know it hasn’t been much at all. Still, for as long as it’s felt like, it seems like so little has happened. Maybe it’s because my routine has entirely shifted, or the fact that I have a routine at all that’s making it hard for me to notice when the days are passing and when they’re not. I know it’s a long shot because it’s not like my correspondence was ever too regular, but maybe it’s just because I stopped keeping a record of my daily events or momentary moods for the people of my homeworld that I’ve lost my handle on time’s passing.
I guess I just never really found anyone to write for. I could always log these things for myself but…I mean, keeping track of how many sports cruisers it took to pass me before I started to drive angrily, or how the new billboard on Spaceport Blvd. makes me feel about the state of the world is stellar and all, but I’m totally not interested in reading about the events of my life, and knowing I’m the only person who’s ever going to makes me wonder why I should bother.
That was until very recently when I met someone who’s already very important to me. And, I know; you’re gonna freak out when you read these next words and you realize the reason why I became inspired to start writing again. I’m in love with a Martian girl and I’m going to move to Mars to be with her.
I know, I know, I know; you’re all like “whaaaaa?” and checking the time stamp to make sure this isn’t a repeat. Then you’re gonna skim the rest of this just so you can get to the comments and give leave your piece…something about past mistakes and history being a bit circular—believe me, I know. This is definitely the sort of thing I should normally be tying into some cosmic allegory, or fitting into some analogy about orbits, or listing actual historic cases of events repeating themselves..But I’ll take something actually being positive in my life for what it is without applying a lethal dose of my usual cynicism. Especially if it means I might be happy with a beautiful lady and not writing it off as something hormonal or wrought with ulterior motives.
You’re gonna need a minute to catch your breath, I’m sure. I know it’s a lot to take in at once, but I’m certain all the implications are beginning to become apparent. Klay Lane is lovestruck, overall unskeptical, and—most importantly—will be writing from Mars again sometime in the near future.
Hmmm…you might literally need to catch up before I can continue..Really, before I can even start. Why don’t I let this simmer with you for a micro, and I’ll get back to you in a week with a lengthy summary for those of you who didn’t have the privilege of being there…this should be everyone. Don’t worry, it’s not gonna be one of those boring recaps where you’re like “I’ve seen this before but it was longer”. I’ll make sure to include all sorts of lasers and special effects, and I’ll throw in a death, too. Oooooo, you’ll have to tune in for that.
