Three hundred seventy-nine miles...



I'm obsessed with his song writing and flaming red hair.

We never ever even tried
We never even talked
We never even thought in the long run...

The other day in a moment of enamoured amusement I wanted nothing more than to talk to you about just how infatuated I've become with someone and how funny I found something he had said to me. You were the first person who came to my mind when I thought I wanted to share what I was feeling.  It's almost always that way. When something good happens to me, or when it's something bad, often what I want the most is to be able to share it with you. I don't know how to stop that. I don't suppose it really matters though, because it's not like I'll ever share anything with you again. You're gone, forever.  It sounds so pitiable if silly to say that, but it's accurate.

We're all "How's It Going To  Be" and "Losing A Whole Year" now, even though it was much more than a year and much more than I even had to be able to lose. I lost so much. Whether or not it was good that I lost it is irrelevant because it still hurts like hell when I try to go to a place inside that we shared, only to find it hollowed out and cold. Maybe I should just be thankful that it doesn't burn me any more. I used to fight going there, but I gave that up long ago. I like to think that's because I've learned to pick my battles and have come to understand that when it's something that's part of me, fighting it only makes it worse. Now I just try to ride the storms.

I don't know why I can't go even one day without thinking of you, but I would love to, more than maybe anything else in this world. This doesn't mean that the thoughts are bad though. In fact they're quite often the most mundane and unremarkable of thoughts, and sometimes they even manage to fill me with the tiniest of lights. That is, until the realization comes back that they're pointless and ultimately unwelcome.

The pointlessness of it, I believe, is what causes me the most distress. I feel helpless, powerless to stop what's happening to me all over again, and for me there's no worse feeling in the world. I think you know why that is; and the idea that you know so much about me, what made me, because I let you, spins my head in circles until I feel like I'm back on the brandy. But that was back when I was what you became, and you were my liberation.

Maybe you're in love now or married, with children or maybe you're like me, cut adrift, but floating on the wind of  an innocent fascination. Who's to say? I'll never ask. Now everything might be different about how I feel about you, but nothing is different about why. Your heart in my head and my head in your heart, well that was a dangerous entanglement, and you came to dwell in my soul. I think you still do. I'm afraid you always will. Maybe I will make that peace one day, but for now it remains a thistle.

Whenever it was painful
Whenever I was away I'd miss you
And I miss you...