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It's amazing how much influence blobs of ink on yellowing paper can have on one's state of mind. I was all set to be fine, waiting for my emotions to miraculously heal, and I started a book. Good book, but even the slightest downer would crash me about now. This book is definitely a downer, and, though it barely relates, is reminding me of stuff I've been trying to forget, at least for awhile.
The nails in my heart are beginning to rust. It's about time... The second one's been in there for a month and a half, almost exactly. The pain is no longer piercing, but festering like the first one. Uncomfortably, Greg Look (remember him? He went to Lanier) reminds me very much of B, and even as I flinch at the likeness and try to mind my own business (he's taken up with Diana, and good luck to her), I yearn for the intelligent conversation with random silliness (also intelligent) that is so similar. I've made a fool of myself many times over, but the discouragement is all in my head, and my emotions are a blob. Mind over matter, they say.
The nails in my heart are beginning to rust. It's about time... The second one's been in there for a month and a half, almost exactly. The pain is no longer piercing, but festering like the first one. Uncomfortably, Greg Look (remember him? He went to Lanier) reminds me very much of B, and even as I flinch at the likeness and try to mind my own business (he's taken up with Diana, and good luck to her), I yearn for the intelligent conversation with random silliness (also intelligent) that is so similar. I've made a fool of myself many times over, but the discouragement is all in my head, and my emotions are a blob. Mind over matter, they say.