I'm always wondering what to say. My mind is always churning through possible words and their likely outcomes. I'm always trying to predict the future by finding that certain phrase that can illicit only one single response. The response I want.
Catch is love, that fucked up intangible emotion refuses to be tied down to anything but the inner most truths of my heart.
See I told you there was some cheese spread coming.
Anyway, love refuses to listen to anything I have to say. The only thing love listens to is my heart and the truth that sits down there in the bottom of it. And love is omniscient. It knows all the little longings my heart aches for, all the meanderings through lust, it knows when I'm focusing my mind intentionally because - this girl is right for me in all the ways my brain wants her to be right for me - and my heart knows when I'm focusing in one girl because I didn't like the fact that I was interested in this other girl.
Of course all this is about a red head that I couldn't actually talk to tonight. And because I couldn't actually talk to her I conceive of myself as missing out on something I could have pulled off in other circumstances. Truth was this girl was so far out my league I don't know why I even wasting my time considering such a thing. She was beautiful and I'm just a goofy looking guy with a bald head and over grown ears. And a thirty year old waiter to boot. But in my egotistical mind I envision a situation where I actually say the right things and woo her into bed, offering her a few days of fantasy while she is on vacation here in Naples. It would never happen, and so my desire becomes torment. A long sad ritual of imagination that I've walked through so many times it feels stale.
Well, I hope I've uplifted you on this Saint Paddy's day.
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