don't you fret

My head is way too full tonight. I have poems to write and a movie remix to figure out. And I have tonight to figure out the poem, and a week to figure out the remix, and of course my mind is working in reverse.

I was reciting Les Mis to myself last night. Not the whole book, and not the musical. Just the part where Eponine dies (oh--SPOILER ALERT) in Marius's arms because she just stepped in front of a bullet that should have killed him (MAJOR SPOILER ALERT) and before she dies she says something to the effect of "You know, I think I was a little bit in love with you."

Maybe I've just rewritten Les Mis. I haven't read it since I was in tenth grade. But I like that idea.

I think I was a little bit in love with you.

How many men could I say this to? I mean, I'd have to be dying in their arms to get up the nerve, but there is a handful of men this would apply to.

Am I making this up?

Not just the quote from Les Mis*, but the handful of men. Have I ever been a little bit in love with anyone? I want to say yes**. And I think I can claim yes now,

but will there be a day when I brush aside those "loves" for something much more real? And by saying this, am I suggesting Eponine's love wasn't real? (Do not debate this--I love Eponine. I love her broken hand and her desparate eyes and her worry that even now he doesn't see her.)

I have a poem to write.


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*I found it: “Et puis, tenez, monsieur Marius, je crois que j’étais un peu amoureuse de vous.”

 Translation: “You know, Monsieur Marius, I think I was a little bit in love with you."

** I know, I edited this. But that line was too sad. And it made my mother worry. I try to avoid that.