7th Run

Does it show I'm getting better? Or that it matters less? No. That can't be it. Kneeling on the blanket with two cups of tropical pine lets me know that's not the case. It's more than I could have hoped for. And yeah, I didn't have my glasses on. And that was my fault alone. Forget the closed door. It opened eventually. And came out. Slowly. In a skirt. Or otherwise.

To think that time away was something I thought I needed. No. Just a change of heart. Chips and bricks set aside. Just one more chance to dive into the bushes. Just one voice.

You can choose to be lost in the woods... but I haven't chosen that in a while. Not with someone anyway. But there I am. You can't chuck choice too often before it'll chuck you. Like 4 men down a mountain. Not that that was the problem then, but in one man's mind it was.

A distraction? No. Medium fries and a water. Without the fries. A wrench. Segolily. Better than owning everything as a king. What is it like on the inside? Is there fire there? Or darkness too? Regardless the fact is that the cat is running around now. Someone has to want to pick it up. And that'll likely only be an animal lover.

It isn't a well. And Alfred isn't who you're looking for. Something deeper. Something far more profound. He wants you to find that. But not like you're thinking. Not just so that you can go to Harvard and add greek to your name. No. It's homemade lemon meringue  in a box. Not possible? Why? Because you've never seen it? Well. He hasn't either. You can love brussel sprouts if you want.

The only man that passes. And the other learns. With patience and such. A tie? A bond? If not then really no. But if so don't deny it. Fix it. Hunt it down. Into the forest. Find some frogs. Make a fire. Set up camp. And never leave.