I have to keep babbling about it so I'll know that it's real, that it hasn't faded overnight, that it exists in a reality that other people know about.

I'm bonded. No matter what form the bond eventually will take, the fact of the bonding won't change unless we change it or let it slip, but even then, it's the sort of bond that snaps to again whenever the connection's remade.

We're making it again moment to moment, day to day, week to week. It renews when I think of the happy moments past; it renews whenever I hear their voices, feel their touch, read their thoughts made text, feel their presence with me so strongly that I have to look about to make sure they haven't appeared in person. It renews when they demonstrate yet again that I have a place in their lives, that my time with them is welcomed.

amberite had mentioned, in the past, that I have demonstrated to her that unrequited love can be a valid choice. Unrequited love is often associated with angsting and whining and wishing either to be rid of it, or to have the love returned in kind. Since last May, I've done all the angsting I intend to. Sometimes knowledge of things comes to me stealthily, through routes other than the typical. Last May, a certain knowledge was imparted to me, explaining why my love cannot be returned to me in kind, though it is surely returned to me with equal force and ferocity. Since then, I have loved quietly, joyously, unreservedly, as my doubts and fears were replaced one by one with certain knowledge of how much I am loved, platonically, in return. Last month, my intution was validated yet again, and again, I give of myself out of love overflowing, out of joy, out of loyalty and faith, out of the silent moments when no Earthly word can fully encompass the heart-warmth shared.

I am cherished, if short of possessed. I am loved, if not owned. I have friends, bondmates, who would move heaven and earth to help me, if I do not have lovers. I give of myself, and I am accepted, more or less as I am. More than that -- I am accepted as I should be. Any good friend can accept you as you are. It takes an incredibly special someone to see you not only as you are, but as you should be, and to help you reconcile the two, with firmness, tenderness, and compassion.

I have that, not once, but twice. My heart is full. I sing joy all around me, joy and delight and awe overpowering.

I could not have found my certainty in either without the other. With, though, I know that however unconventional the arrangements, all shall be well.