Here I go again, down the table
Somehow I find it hard to remember where I put things a few minutes from then. Even more frustrating, I tend to forget if I knew something in the first place, or was just jumping to say I knew something "he" didn't.
I guess there are things in life worth thinking about, things in life worth forgetting, and things that you just can't forget. When you know that where you are and your current adventures will be forgotten in a few years you should be comforted, not ashamed. It should not be viewed as bad if later in your life you speed through this part of the story because it bores you.
Don't ask me why I think this. Don't ask me why I do this. I don't really have an excuse as much as I have a reason. That reason is null for anyone but myself and its been nice keeping said reason to myself for a change. Information need only be divulged in bits and pieces.
It is interesting how little you think about things you do not talk about often. The ridiculous amount of chest contractions (or...asthma attacks, or something) used to happen at least once a week. The reason is not an excuse. The reason has a name, and she will do well not to dwell on that fact. Now I don't think about her much, unless I see a dog, or an instrument, or even the occasional bouncy and cute girl that bounds on past me. I am okay with that. I can live with that.
I'm not so sure on living with seeing her much. Maybe thats a weird way of putting it. I guess I mean, I think I like it this way, where there is no "us" anymore. It's actually done, and nobody asks. There are parts of my head that do dwell on old things even when I am not paying attention. Usually they appear as dreams, or even sometimes, show up in writing. After a full night of touching her hair or her skin or her fingers I wake up and still find myself in a feeling of regret.
Thirty minutes later, I've forgotten the dream and even the feeling of regret.
In a sense, I am proud of what I've become. I know I could be worse, and that's all I mean by the aforesaid thought. Like I've said near the beginning of this rant-like little diary entry 'I don't know why I do what I do, or say what I say. I don't have an excuse, but I do have a reason'.
Shit, gotta go. Not my comp.
Fin consequita
