“Those ‘what ifs’ are loud little fuckers,” he thought.
On most days he was okay with how things went down.
On most days.
But, today wasn’t one of those days.
Memories flooded back.
He doesn’t have enough fingers to plug all the holes in that dyke.
“It’d be better for everyone if you let it go,” they would tell him.
If he actually asked.
And he didn’t.
They probably say it behind his back.
He doesn’t give a shit.
Memories are interesting creatures though.
Somehow those exact same memories can ellicit very different responses in you from moment to moment.
He hates “bittersweet.”
Anyone who uses it, really has no idea about what “sweet” is.
But, he is doing well.
Most of the time.
He is accomplishing amazing things.
People tell him so.
Not enough people though.
He hates that he feels that way.
He didn’t think that things would play out this way.
He’s usually cautious. He’d never allow himself to want something too much, so that the possible letdown wouldn’t be as damaging.
He made the mistake of letting himself believe that one time.
He probably won’t let it happen again.
And not because he is any wiser. He just isn’t capable of letting his defenses down like that again.
He was close to having it.
He could almost reach out and touch it.
“Is it REALLY impossible for me to get it?”
And with that Al Gore turns away from the White House fence and walks back to his car.