As I think I mentioned in my post about the eight days in Oregon in August, I returned to more emotional turmoil than usual, and it just got worse for the next week or so. I characterized it to those who asked as feeling sorry for myself, and certainly part of it was feeling roiled about my cancer and the treatment for it and where this is all
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I started to say more, then went looking through your LJ for the date of "Blame Canada." Along the way, I found "The Weathered Wall" and responded at some length there. And with that (and this), I think I shall stop for tonight.
Onward.
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Now I can say I love you easily, because it's different and I have no needs or expectations. (That made more sense before I started writing it out. I hope you manage to get the right meaning out of it.)
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When we met at Confranciso in 1993, I was fixated on a bartender who was basically unattainable. It seemed to be my ideal romantic situation at the time, coming off two relationships that had ended very painfully, because it gave me someone to dream about without any chance that it would become a messy reality full of heartbreak.
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