By Vishal
Date: 2002 Jun 15
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Damaged Goods

At the lowest ebbs of my life, I wonder how I can ever come to love a woman again, and with both pleasure and terror, I think about the fact that somewhere in the world there is a laughing singing girl who will one day become my wife. In my mind I can see her dancing and playing and flirting in preparation for that day of awe and wonder when we shall meet and in mutual ecstasy declare, "I will love you forever."
How much of my past and my pain will I bring to that singing girl's life? And how many days will it take before I, child of storm, silence her laughter and song for all time? How long will it take to end the dance of that laughing girl who will not know the doubts and imperfections I now bring to the task of loving a woman.
I have loved the image of this girl as long as I can remember, and sometimes I want to warn her to beware the day when I enter her life. Somewhere in the world she is waiting out her life innocent of her destiny. She does not know that she is on a collision course with a man so damaged and bewildered, who has spent so long trying to figure out how love is supposed to feel, how it can manifest itself between two people, and how it can be practised without lies and tears and sorrow. There are times when I think that this wonderful girl deserves much better, and I should warn her before I interfere with her lovely passage and her transfiguring dance.