But I'll keep holding on, til all the good is gone...I know, right?
Twas walking in the rain earlier, pondering. I remember seeing 500 Days of Summer. The realization of just how very much I was like this was brutal. We live fantasy for awhile, then it crumbles back inwards upon us. And traps our legs...
And hardens our hearts to further intrusion.
And we embrace darkness once again. For awhile...
Eventually, the dull throb is drowned out by the symphony of otherworldly clamor.
Do we send out a telepathic distress signal?
Do we linger at the very door of that which has knocked us flat time and time again?
I think not as I believe a lesson has been learned. As deep as it is, the wound has been licked clean, and quite thoroughly.
I will now find my only solace: in the arms of Christopher Walken and James Lipton.
Take that revelation as you will...
