Three days, and then

I suppose it silly to suppose that I could outdo my last writing on the subject, which was merely two or three days ago, now, as though perhaps in these few moments anything can be said to have changed. However, these things do take time to pass, as they do, as I know, very well.

One could attempt a mockery of my "I suppose it silly", fooling himself into believing that I had intended to write "I suppose it's silly"; but then, I generally always say exactly what I intend. There is an "understood" "to be" in there, such that the meaning is "I suppose it [to be] silly." But then, who questions my use of words? Somebody could, and I'd just like to point out that they would be mistaken, and will have to try harder in the future to argue that I am an imbecile.

Nearing the time that I must retire though it is, continue I do. And here we are; or, I am, rather; or we.

But what has my previous object lacked, the previous writing that I created? What has it lacked? again I ask, because the first sentence was not strong enough. I'm not sure what it lacked. I suppose it was lacking in that it did not create in my mind a stubborn resolve, a resolution, as it were, that I would go about doing anything in particular to woo my enchantress. Perhaps the summation of the situation is that I have merely done my best to sum up for her, in text, how that I am interested in hearing from her more, and that she has decidedly not made that happen. I have not gone to great lengths to avail myself to her, nor have I made lengthy petitions for apt response. I have merely let bygones be bygones, because, in simpleness, it is the best of the options that I have derived from the possibilities I see. If I were to say, "Hear, hear; you are to speak to me further," the response I would achieve would not be at all the dreamt-of response that motivated me to SAY, "Hear, hear;" and if I were to drive to her place uninvited, and if she responded with a hesitant, vague sort of jubilation, then I would be forced to always be going out of my way to get her attention, and I honestly don't know how well I could cope with that-- it would be a large change for me; and then, later, it might even prove a fleeting solution; she might eventually respond just as she'd respond to "Hear, hear; you are to speak to me further."

No, none of those would do. And so, as I guess I must do in these situations, I have absolved myself of further responsibility. Now, what can I do, in addition to this resignation? I can dream; but in contrast to these dreams, what terrors may come, if, while my mind is set upon one dream, the things I see are distinctly of a different sort?




I suppose, eventually, somebody will be somebody different; and though I prefer the enchantress now, in the future, another will come. It is a sad compromise, but somebody has to do it.

I could write [countless] volumes on the subject, but I only have one night to sleep before working, and I must do all that I can to turn off the "cogs" and other mechanical devices that [it has been suggested to me] make my brain go.

It is not, again, all so very well

There are times in a man's life when he cannot properly control his needs.
The thing that I want is too expensive to pay for.
Is it a thing of beauty? To continue on with this wording. This, this sadness.
It is best, I believe, to pick an audience and stick with it, and forget the others.
So, who is my preferred audience today?
What is preference? What is it based upon?
I think I'd prefer it to be a lovely lady. But then, is that really the best thing to do?
Shall I, rather, have an audience with the world?
I can tell all, and hope to seal it up in words and forget;
or, I could direct my sad and perplexed emotions toward the lovely lady;
but, in that case, it would make much more sense to just send it directly to her, via text or something.

I think what really needs to happen is:
I need to change my opinion on the matter. To reveal my worst fears, and to accept them as fact.
She does not love me; it is not the true love that I was dreaming of that night.
She kissed me, and it was unexpected, and it was intriguing, but she didn't mean it, so then perhaps I can view it as only intriguing, and no longer feel it as the enchantment it has been.
She was entirely intoxicated; therefore, though she was free with me and allowed me into her bed, it in no way reflects the real level of trust she has for me; but, who says drunkenness is not realer than sobriety? What I really need to distinguish is the several sides of her view of me. Mildly under the influence, she is at rest, and is friendly to me. Heavily inebriated, she is not thinking straight, and will not remember, so it does not matter I suppose; I would do well to remember this next time. Sober, she is sometimes curt, sometimes a doll.

This writing is such a mess, I know this very well. My mind is as well.

I suppose my worst fears perhaps are not fact; I cannot prove them as such. They are at least a good indicator (at least); they are probabilities. Structured, strengthened by time and experience in the field. If she's not into me, she's not, and that's all there really is to it.

I tend to think that, if there were to be love between us, the image I have of it would need to be wiped clean and redrawn, again, as it ever is; and, in fact, this sort of thing could go on unendingly, until we were very old. It is that I was so very over her; I have been pretty much clear of feelings for her, for over a year; and now, this has occurred:

the forgotten kiss

Is it just that I wanted something so badly that,
 even though my thoughts were almost entirely platonic,
  I let this forgotten kiss wrap me in a cloth of enchantment?
I had forgotten the feeling;
 I had written such things off
  as impossibilities.
A brief daydream, then
 less than a week goes by,
  and she is in my arms,
   so to speak.
Who wouldn't jump to conclusions?
And yet, as things return to their natural rest,
 my living heart remembers--
  an unlikelihood, brought into reality.

Dumb that it couldn't be real. Or then...
But, probabilities.
I should restate that. Here:
   Dumb if it's not real,
   Not so dumb if it's real.
   Likely not real, though,
   So most likely dumb.