Friday, April 20, 2012


It's funny, I was asked the other day at work why I was so evil. "I wonder how you treat the people you care about!"

I pondered.

The one woman I have the most affection for doesn't even get me everyday. She would if I was with her, but as of now...

"Not that well," I admitted. "She knows how I feel about her," I thought, twisting my face.

Frowning somewhat, the beautiful little munchkin bursts into my mind.

I have an odd ... for her. I care about her immensely, can write prose about her forever, she is as amazing as the first time we talked. She always remained amazing to me, overly important to me, I'd do anything for her, with a smirk.

For the amount of whatever I feel for her, it's funny, even I don't think she knows what it is. It's "us". An acknowledged like, a daunting situation, stress, etc, "us". I know my place, however.

"Us" always made me happy. She allows me to seep into a deep state of bliss, I smoke weed while talking to her, not out of necessity, but just to maximize the overall state of bliss she gives me. She is crack, she's dangerously addictive; there is no one dose of her, I've tried various forms of "rehab", but she's my habit & I don't want to quit her. I used to let my mind wander, get demi-jealous sometimes, but it was never anything excessive.

Something in between.

I write about her for the double effect; a woman that is flattered to be talked about + a man who enjoys simply thinking of her = ... a lot of words, a lot of chances to know I make her smile. That's more than enough payment, to me.

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