I remember a turning point in my mid-twenties where I was in the presence of someone I came to realize was better than me. What I felt wasn’t jealousy, it never was, and wasn’t even close. It was more like realizing in this dark universe that there are those that exist as nothing more than proof that there is good out there. I was fortunate enough to date them for a time and to fall in love and to be in love even though it wasn’t mutual and still know they are better suited for someone else. It didn’t help that she was taller than me, so she always seemed to slouch a bit to compensate… someone as great as she was (and I hope still is) deserves to stand tall.
For some reason, it’s almost easier to explore those painful experiences because the details are salient and concrete. Those good experiences, however — the good people that exist and their influence is harder to quantify. It’s almost as if describing the good directly is the wrong thing to do. Rather, it is best to describe the outline of good because the brightness at center is too much such that its impossible to gaze upon. You can’t look at what glows directly because it will blind you, but indirectly is a space of words that in some small measure point to the idea of good.
So here I am with my meager attempt, that the existence of you who is better than me moves me.
I am me 