LEARNING TO LOSE GRACELESSLY

A few more days of nauseous anxiety, of fervent hoping despite my defeatist tendencies. Maybe it's a defense mechanism, maybe it's just pessimism, but I sense a grim assurance that the jury of one will again convict me unworthy of her love.

I finally admitted the truth I've been sandbagging for so long -- that I love her -- but I fear my declaration is too late to influence her decision. I may have had a real shot at happiness, and somehow (I haven't even figured out how yet) I did something to spoil it.

Words have always been my saving grace in trying times, but I can't find the right ones to say. Even if I could, she wouldn't want to hear them. Still, I wish I was capable of the kind of stirring, show-stopping, passionate-kiss-inducing speech that the suave Hollywood actors have perfected to an artform. I wish my words had power and consequence behind them; that the abundant and unconditional love with which they were spoken would somehow impact the one at whom they were directed.

But this is real life, and I'll suffer in silence, and she'll never hear what I could never say.

My greatest fear is that this ghost of a chance, this brief flicker of radiance, will be silently snuffed and quickly forgotten. I'll lose the love of my life unceremoniously, without even the benefit of fully pleading my case before the guilty verdict is read.

If there is any dynamic romanticism in the world, this is the time for a miracle. I need it. I need her.

Learning to lose gracelessly is a lesson I just cannot endure.