lima beans
I guess I'm just really good at sabotaging myself. Or I am far, far, far from being sure and I have to have a way out - even if this way out is a dead end street. Or it may just take more time for the idea to be erased from every cell. How else would I explain the knot in my stomach? They say you know when you know. Sometimes that's just true of other things than meeting the one. Or of other contexts, other people's ones.
Share your lives. I know that giving my permission sounds conceited, but it helps. Me. I know I shouldn't have read those two little texts, but I did, and they oozed "You're the one for me." In theory I'm more than happy if you find the woman for you. But, well, it's always the same with theories. In theory I let go of you last April, then again last June, then another time just before Christmas, then at the gig we went to. Quite a lot of evidence suggests that I had the wrong idea, but being wrong is sometimes the worst thing of all. You were like the man made especially after my blueprint. A lifeline. The best in every respect. I still think you're absolutely wonderful. Which is why I still have trouble sometimes being happy with what is happening in my life. No theory, no explanation, no wise thought from anyone can do away with the sting. Maybe time can. Or someone else that I asked to take it away if that was for the best. Maybe the sting is barbed, and so it has to be taken out in a long and careful surgery.
Does it sound contrived that I'm using this language? If you can bear it, read on, it's still about you, and maybe there's something you can use, something that makes you feel better, whatever.
I guess I'm scared, and I'm also bad at accepting really big things unprepared. If I got a different kind of coffee than I ordered, I can be fine and thus prove my spontaneity. If a guy comes along while I find myself loving you very much despite myself, and if that guy courts me after I let go of you and while I realize that I finally want to be me without any guy tearing my consciousness away from me and into yonder spheres, I have trouble adjusting. Huge trouble. That shows in me refusing to accept the idea that maybe, just maybe you were meant to lead me to somebody else. I am letting that idea sink in, but it's sinking in slowly. At about the speed at which I get closer to somebody else.
Something suggests that you kept reading this blog even after the hope period because somewhere you seemed to have gotten the idea that we were linked for some reason. As I suggested. Yeah, I know, maybe you had that idea yourself, without any help, after all you're intelligent in many ways. I'm just saying.
Maybe I wasn't advertising myself for you, maybe I was so that you'd see that I was good enough for somebody else. Well, you may not have wanted to set us up, I know. Just because I had the feeling you wanted to - soooo eager for me to organize that night - doesn't mean you did. Maybe I even did something for you, who knows. Maybe you realized that you were a lot more interesting and lovable and attractive than you had thought. Maybe you started to look at women differently because of that movie storyline we had. Or maybe you just found a friend, like I found one. Because it's what you are: a friend.
Friends don't stop friends from living their lives, pursuing their dreams, I know. If you and her are meant for each other, I try to be happy. I wouldn't be happy if you were at the other side of the world, but I guess you wouldn't be the only friend on a different continent. And if you ever decide to go for a stage career, we could still team up. DoeF 2.0.
Even though my feelings for you will always have the name love, it will be a love I have for all of my dear friends. It probably is already. And even though I love you, I am the tiniest bit happy, too, that it's you who gets to read all that stuff that borders on depressing. I would not talk to somebody else about it, because it's not his problem, it's mine. You know what would be cool? If you showed me that you have read these lines. In any way you want.
Share your lives. I know that giving my permission sounds conceited, but it helps. Me. I know I shouldn't have read those two little texts, but I did, and they oozed "You're the one for me." In theory I'm more than happy if you find the woman for you. But, well, it's always the same with theories. In theory I let go of you last April, then again last June, then another time just before Christmas, then at the gig we went to. Quite a lot of evidence suggests that I had the wrong idea, but being wrong is sometimes the worst thing of all. You were like the man made especially after my blueprint. A lifeline. The best in every respect. I still think you're absolutely wonderful. Which is why I still have trouble sometimes being happy with what is happening in my life. No theory, no explanation, no wise thought from anyone can do away with the sting. Maybe time can. Or someone else that I asked to take it away if that was for the best. Maybe the sting is barbed, and so it has to be taken out in a long and careful surgery.
Does it sound contrived that I'm using this language? If you can bear it, read on, it's still about you, and maybe there's something you can use, something that makes you feel better, whatever.
I guess I'm scared, and I'm also bad at accepting really big things unprepared. If I got a different kind of coffee than I ordered, I can be fine and thus prove my spontaneity. If a guy comes along while I find myself loving you very much despite myself, and if that guy courts me after I let go of you and while I realize that I finally want to be me without any guy tearing my consciousness away from me and into yonder spheres, I have trouble adjusting. Huge trouble. That shows in me refusing to accept the idea that maybe, just maybe you were meant to lead me to somebody else. I am letting that idea sink in, but it's sinking in slowly. At about the speed at which I get closer to somebody else.
Something suggests that you kept reading this blog even after the hope period because somewhere you seemed to have gotten the idea that we were linked for some reason. As I suggested. Yeah, I know, maybe you had that idea yourself, without any help, after all you're intelligent in many ways. I'm just saying.
Maybe I wasn't advertising myself for you, maybe I was so that you'd see that I was good enough for somebody else. Well, you may not have wanted to set us up, I know. Just because I had the feeling you wanted to - soooo eager for me to organize that night - doesn't mean you did. Maybe I even did something for you, who knows. Maybe you realized that you were a lot more interesting and lovable and attractive than you had thought. Maybe you started to look at women differently because of that movie storyline we had. Or maybe you just found a friend, like I found one. Because it's what you are: a friend.
Friends don't stop friends from living their lives, pursuing their dreams, I know. If you and her are meant for each other, I try to be happy. I wouldn't be happy if you were at the other side of the world, but I guess you wouldn't be the only friend on a different continent. And if you ever decide to go for a stage career, we could still team up. DoeF 2.0.
Even though my feelings for you will always have the name love, it will be a love I have for all of my dear friends. It probably is already. And even though I love you, I am the tiniest bit happy, too, that it's you who gets to read all that stuff that borders on depressing. I would not talk to somebody else about it, because it's not his problem, it's mine. You know what would be cool? If you showed me that you have read these lines. In any way you want.
ronjavondermattisburg - 3. Mai, 12:36
