I think the reason you don’t hate me is because you know I’d do anything for you if you asked, but you don’t ask and I’m left wondering why, and then the feeling of like you could do anything for me pops back into my head and my heart opens up wide, and I feel like I could be everything for you, I could love you forever if you let me, and I don’t know why I can’t just take that first step, but my feet won’t move.
Because I’m not you.
I can’t be, and that’s just how it is.
Going someplace else. Just for awhile. Just to escape. Someplace that I’m not so far from now. And where is that? That’s what I need.
My secret is to show all the good, and all the love, that I can. It’s not easy to stay the night at a lonesome place. It’s easier with another. It’s been there all along, but you couldn’t see it. But I know it’s out there, I can feel it. I was afraid, and alone, but it’s okay now. See, now we’re friends, just like the wind in the trees, I never cared. So, don’t cry, you must have known that all along. Maybe I did too, but it’s hard to say. When you’re sad, you have to stand up!
Hey – that’s a plus!
A new opportunity.
I get a chance to set another line of merit as I write.
Before that, there was just hate.
Desire, which alludes to revenge and justice, could be followed by terror and revenge, and then, no more opportunities.
But now, there is a circle within that circle.
A greater chance for success.
Not many can hope to seek that sort of golden circle, but I can. And what is that opportunity?
I will find it out.
No! There’s a touch of Beethoven’s piano sonata in that thought. You have only influence over whether your story stays in the shadows, or goes public, if you let it. We are too much our own worst enemy in this country, unwilling to admit to ourselves and to others, even, that we don’t know everything.
I need the satisfaction of ending the tale well, writing another verse that does justice to my beautiful companion.
In the early days, writing with a man was an adventure, but now I don’t want to write with one. I just want to finish the story as soon as possible. I realise that the real writer doesn’t like romance and the verbose, the ugly stream of details. He appreciates clarity, flexibility, lightness and the stylistic lyricism that creates the perfect balance between the text and the tale.
“He then visited a mental institution and spoke to some patients in need of help. Some of the patients were young and many of them had mild forms of mental illness. After listening to some of their stories, it was easy to see that, no matter how difficult their situation, there is still hope. A 19-year-old girl told him that she had a better understanding of how to live her life since he spoke with her.”
It sounds like you’ve found a way to hope, which makes me happy. It also sounds like you’ve found a way to make sense of a complicated knot of feelings and thoughts. I wish the best for you.