Oh, what am I doing, I truly shouldn’t be talking about this here; this isn’t the place—
…Deirak did love me. I could tell I made him happy. He never wrote me poetry or made up songs or gave me funny nicknames or any of the silly little things that Ben does, but that was, I think, more of a difference in personality. Deirak was a more straightforward person…but he was kind, and so patient. I can hardly think of a time when he lashed out or picked a fight. And the teachings of the Jedi were very important to him, as they were to me.
As they are to me, I meant to say.
Whenever he faced any sort of trial, or whenever we faced one together, he would always stay calm and quiet for a few moments and seek guidance from the Force before proceeding. He valued wisdom and careful decision-making. It was very rare that he made a misstep, and all the times he did, he would always catch it quickly. He did not like to take action without first taking adequate time for rational consideration. Every choice he had to make, he would measure it first against the way of the Jedi, and the principles and precepts we had been taught.
Ben, in contrast, is his own compass. When he does not know the way, he charges headlong into the mist and hopes for the best. There is something endearing about it, when it is benign. And Ben, in his finest moments, is a good man, one whose strong feelings drive him toward raw, honest, heartfelt virtue. But the same impetuosity that is the driving force behind his purest and most admirable passions is also the one that has also driven him into so much foolishness. You are right; he is more stable now, these days…but it is not these days that are so often on my mind. It is the past…and the future. If you asked me, quite honestly, whether I trusted Ben from now on to never again do something ridiculous, something stupid, something wildly absurd, something painful—I could not say yes. And if he were to make another mistake like the one that will not go away no matter how much I resolve to overcome it…I do not think I would cry. I think I would laugh at him.
And then I would still make him dinner and ask about his day at work and kiss him goodnight before bed, whether I truly meant it or not.
Because…there is something in me that is a little like Ben, I am coming to realize. There are certain desires I refuse to relinquish that will quite send me marching into the mist myself, blind to all warnings and deaf to all advice, and I know it, I acknowledge it, I am deeply aware of it—but I have not the will to fight it anymore. I do not. I have spent the last sixteen years attempting to control myself and deny myself my desires, and too much has happened in the last three, and I am tired. And now I want what I want, with all its flaws, and I will have it, with all its flaws. I am tired of telling myself to wait, to be content, to be careful—I want and I want and I want and I wish to have and now I will and I simply do not care anymore what consequences should befall.
But I cannot help but wonder what life I could have had, had I stayed. I said goodbye to Deirak because our paths diverged and I had never felt a spark for him. But perhaps the spark isn’t everything. Perhaps, even, it isn’t necessary. I didn’t have to say goodbye to Deirak. I could have altered my path to match his, and perhaps I could have learned to kindle the spark myself, and perhaps he and I could have married much sooner and quelled this pining within me long ago, long before Ben grew up and decided he could love me, and I wonder, I wonder, if I wouldn’t have been at least just a little happier than I am n
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