Yes, I am winning, in the battle, the game against Love. Love, that flighty bitch, has pinned me down for the last time. I am fairly certain that I will win overall and NOT be burdened with that hormone-laden crazy-time known as losing myself in another's eyes. No, I won't.
I will WISH, hard and in secret, for a touch, tender and full of emotion. But in the blazing light of day I will know, in the bottoms of my feet, that I cannot wait for this thing, this romance, this fake fucker to come around and give me that dream. Crazy stupid dream of what? Someone to fawn over me and gush? Someone to pull on me and lean, needing me for every breath?
No no no. I can poke holes in anything. Just watch. I can be bitter, doubtful and most of all, alone. I will send out tendrils to scout out the landscape. But I will stay here, where I am me first of all, whatever that may mean.
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