There is always the allure of keeping the things as fresh as they are. Leaving the messy for the common of heart.
-But you don’t really believe that, do you?
I am not faint where my will is, I can manage the façade longer than you can imagine and suck the blood out of it.
-I’m sure you could and have. Now look back and do what everyone else does, compare it and face yourself. Where is the meat of you memories? Sweat and tears and laughter? Where does the heart of the heart lie? Have you no appetite for it? With what will you fill your cup of memories?
I’d rather not know you than suffer losing all the bits I would grow to love. Oh how quaint would you have me be. A small life, a quiet life. One where trees are second in mind to never. I’m sure you would have me watching TV on Tuesday nights and going to the market with a list. Right. I’ve fought being downright common, hear me?
– So it is you. It is not even your heart nor a pain that nipped your underbelly. No. It really is the play, isn’t it? How sad for you. It really must be cold there where your ego lives. Poor you, never really knowing or hearing your own voice. This is messy, being around you. Who could ever learn to love such a beast.
Did you think that reference would elude me? Dude please. I have never sinned unkindness, if that is what your getting at. Rather I have been lashed publicly and know the castration of looks and whispers. The play is the thing, whether you admit it or not. Refrain from becoming to personal, you might strain yourself, and then what would we do with you? There are several things one must forgo if you decide to take a certain path. Don’t overestimate it, it is what it is. Like an apple to a pear. Nonetheless the decision must be made. My guess is that you would never even have it for an afternoon much less commit to your options for a year.
– What do you want me to say? Perhaps reaching this stalemate is what we needed.
Are you giving up that easily?
-I don’t know. It’s none of your business.
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