Quiet Evenings and Warm Glows
Life echoing bodies: full of mountains and valleys.
At work, I took a picture of a man named James Joyce. Instead of being a writer, he was a lawyer and instead of being drunk and blind, he was tall and looked like Tony Hawk.
Self Destructive. Maybe before, but certainly not now. A tagged label which reveals misconceptions, both of my mind and relationships.
"Im afraid of breaking your heart" twice, twice I've heard that unfair ending. Sadness doesn't follow anymore, simply frustration at their lack of confidence in themselves to take a risk. Projection- they're afraid of having their heart broken. Because I Can Deal With It. I Have Dealt With It. But maybe they don't want to believe that; it screws with their conception of me- fragile and dependent. I'm sorry but here I am: loving moments, loving love, fully believing in the cliche it's better to have loved and lost. It's ok if it isn't forever but I won't stop wishing it was. He said "I could make you feel like the most valuable person in the world." Alright, then do it. He's promising the wrong things with his mouth and the right things with his hands.