Post THIS

Think, think, think. In my thoughts….my mind….body…soul. Wishes for otherwise remain unanswered. It’s all in the process. Why…oh why? The rejection and inability is evident. This is a new experience of pain, the kind that leaves one cold and oh-so less trusting. Cynicism and more glorious desires run at a seemingly all-time high.

Foolish, so incredibly foolish. That’s me. That’s you. That WAS us. I don’t care if you all think you know what you know. This is the process. I never said I was glamorous or NOT crazy. I only hope the lesson sticks. The pleasure is in the pain? Perhaps one can’t exist without another. Perhaps I am confounded and forever naive about the harsh reality you spoke of over and over AND over. After all, you did convey your beliefs, your fears, your dreams. I love you for that….the faltered attempts…the jokes and laughs and croissants. So much so that I know I stand not alone. You are next to me, forever and never. Fuego!

Trust me, it was the hardest part….letting go, not taking part. No one really wins this time. Strange is the start, necessary is the change. Ink the score. Color this strand. Polish this coffin. Murder this death. Simply stunning. Not so wonderful was the latest viewed performance. Range appreciated, religiosity not. I’m sure your criticisms would be much the same, even if you never share.

This isn’t a type of tunnel vision, it is the moment. My moment. Take it, leave it. My drug of choice. My hand of expressive glory. My hood of hiding. Your investment in time. I speak of love and altered, blurred perceptions. Many thanks for bended ears and spoken words. You make my dreams come true. Believe it. Believe me. I love you.