Fear of Foreshadowing

He loves me so easy, so freely, so well. I can't comprehend how he's able to do it. He calls me a worrier, an over-thinker. I suppose that I am, but I only worry about him. Every time he woos me with those words that pull my heart closer to his, I feel fear along with the joy. Every time he holds me, I worry what will happen if it's the last time.

I think I've watched too many movies, read too many books. I seem to look at my life as a work of fiction, the plot written and twisted for an audience distinctly separate from myself. I fear the tragic irony that so often ends these works of fiction.

We once argued over "party plates"- those dull yellow license plate coverse given to those convicted of driving under the influence. It was a stupid argument, we knew that even as we bickered. Later that night after we had parted ways, the one true love of my life went for a drink with his friend. I cried and worried all night, wringing my hands in fear. I worried that the tragic irony would come to end our story that night, in the form of a car accident at the hands of his drunk friend, or some other drunk driver late at night.

That never happened of course. Years later, our love remains and there is no evidence of a plot twist coming to ruin that.

I will try to enjoy the middle of our story for as long as I can. But I will always fear the end of the story, whether it is today, tomorrow, 30 or 60 years from now. I will never be prepared to live without him. No matter the amount of foreshadowing.