It's About Time

The weekend was a soaring roaring success. Not healed, but healing. Not fixed, but on the road the path the route the track.

But oh my oh my are charismatic men hard to resist. I still find myself eyeing him across the room. And talking on the phone for three hours? What's that about? Do I need a cosmic slap across the face? Snap out of it!

The problem I think is that while everyone else (the people who are prescient) know (they know) that it isn't one of those "meant to be" and is in fact "meant to be WRONG"...I don't buy it. I don't! I don't believe it. I don't feel that. Maybe I do a little. Teeny tiny bit. But is it the hope I'm still clinging to or the fantasy?

On another note... My poor little lost friend. If you ever read this (which you don't) I truly truly hope you find the peace and stillness and strength and joy and sanity you seek. I wish I could help you, but I can't. And I won't. It's not fair to anyone if I do. Where did you go? Where are you headed? Are you going to fade away or self-destruct?

Love you.

Love me again, too. So that's cool.

Do I have to not love him? I do, don't I? Fuck.

At least it's right-sized now. No longer is it bearing the burden of my childhood wounds and ancient primal damages. It's just about a guy. He's just a guy.

Now on to more important things, yes?