I [heart] my soldier.

For various reasons, I still must be vague. The undefined churning has been no thanks to Uncle Sam, but I'm sure that was clear in one of the various past posts reeking of drama. I'm not much for roller coasters, you see. They're fun at first with the weightless sensation and the washing cycle tickle in your middle space. Then the curdling occurs and the surplus of unknown dips and turns and up-side-down loops becomes much more than you had ever really wanted. It's hard to ride this high for too long without finding yourself eventually bent over the first available bush or retching into the open mouth of a trash can. Thrill rides are best handled in small doses for a reason...because after too many jolting corkscrew twists, the fragile girl frays a little at the edges and would much prefer the ride to slow [if only for a minute].

This is one of the more volatile stretches it seems, one for which I could not have been prepared. As usual...well, you've read how well I've handled the rapid changes.

I'm driven to write most often by those ravaging feelings that need to be purged lest they eat me alive in viral gluttony. The joyous ones are held close, achieving the same comfort as a child's blanket - sacred, guarded and mine. I come here to unload the blubbering nights and the sometimes scalding recaps of less favorable interactions because I want my memories to remain untainted. I want my night and day dreams to be mystically romantic and heart-fluttering, not marred by the inconsiderate mishaps doled out by The Army. In rereading the last week or so worth of posts, it has become apparent that I have unjustly deprived The Staff Sergeant of any homage owed. It's the institution that's hard [for me], not us. It's the tremendous challenge of assimilation that feels so large and intolerable at times. It's the high-speed roller coaster that makes me restless. He on the other hand, is incredible.

There are some things that you should know, some filler for the woe: I take him out of his element...much farther, I'm guessing, than he would ever want. I'm certain that I test his patience. I know that there are moments when my girly-ness is just as foreign to him as his army-ness is to me. We don't always see eye-to-eye. He doesn't love everything that I do and I do some things anyway [blogging him, for example]. He's very strong and very brave and very, very admirable. When it would be so easy for him to hang up the phone, he chooses to stay on the other end even when I'm sure he and I are both teetering on the edge of sanity. We speak other languages entirely when we try to process the meaty parts of this relationship. Imagine trying to achieve a serious goal with a Martian. You are equipped only with the ability of speech...you're both blind or stuck on the phone. Just imagine it. I spit a phrase and it comes out skewed on his end, but he doesn't give up on me. He reminds me that this isn't just my new terrain.

He sent me roses on my birthday when he couldn't be there. He took me shopping this weekend, for no reason. He opens every door for me even when I've become accustomed to opening my own. He takes my cookies to work even though he gets heat for his girlfriend's home-baked goods. He picked up that I heart my soldier sticker I've been wanting even though the cliche and kitsch [probably] make his skin crawl. He's honest and doesn't play emotional games. He's supportive of my dreams and always tries to live up to whatever I've said that I need him to be. He humors my not-so-funny-after-all stories. He humors me a lot, actually.

That's just the shallow end of him, but I'll save some things because he isn't much for exposure. He's infinitely more than opened doors and purchases. He's more than humoring and supporting me. He's also more than absurdly sexy, but I felt I that justice couldn't be served without its brief mention.

I admit that the reading has been bleak as of late. If you asked him, he'd probably say that the chatter has been as well. My heart however is weathering the storm just fine - a little ache never killed anyone. He's back this time for a literal minute and the next jaunt into the world bodes poorly for even phone calls. That's very hard to think about even now without feeling dreadful tears begin to scratch at my eyes. I'm not good with missed milestones, just as I have outgrown my love for roller coasters. I'm not a fan of lonely nights or long stints of absence either. I would have never chosen the army but some things are well worth their sacrifices. Seeing his smile after weeks without it is one of those things, and I'd do it ten-fold to be able to wake up in his arms.