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I hate this falling in love business. It feels like a hell of a lot of generated energy for something that may or may not happen in some take your time distant future so you can get to know each other when you’ll never really know a person. You have to thread lightly so that you do or do not confuse depending on the variation of the chase and while truth can not be changed it can be omitted upon level of interest and time in the relationship… or friendship… or whatever it was you decide to call it. Squinting from reading all the in between lines and the caveats of the in between ‘tweens, if and only if statements to help you make sense, predict or reprogram an action, is painful to me. The excitement of a kiss is really a negotiating chip for a possibility that you may or may not get me depending if you do or do not like me today and/or tomorrow as long as the strong attraction Pluto and the waxing moon on a partial Asiatic eclipse stopping at China doesn’t interfere. I’m tired of wondering why the phone doesn’t ring.

My scalp is itching and before anything begins, I erase the number. I’m seriously tempted to go back into the serene silent tranquility of single world if it weren’t for the fact that in the end we all settle. I hold my tongue when I see the lugubrious pour of loyalty and affection to a career, hobby or pet, when one deficiency doesn’t and can not compensate for the other. I wonder if settling just isn’t another way of just getting tired of all the mundane complexities when it’s difficult to stay in love as the years go by. When we look into each other and step into the tender spots that trigger doubt: am I good enough, do I matter, is there love. And I breath. Alone…like we all do.

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