Hello wayward readers, whomever you msy be. You must be a fascinating group to wind up here, you must tell me how you found this damp corner of the internet, it is most obscure. If you're following my narative, great, more power to you. It is a winding and difficult one to follow.
If you are trying to, then I must bring you back up to speed, as we'll missed a few pages.
After the great bar napkin manifesto (see previous post for a portion of it) we lost a bit of momentum. It was an epic bender friends, but I had to cut back a bit, and by living a normal, working, sober lifestyle I lost a bit of momentum for introspection.
A couple of perfect days seem to have brought the ship to an even keel. The serene drift of shared company, rapid hours, day trips up the cost and shared smiles. That rush I feel when I hear you laugh as loud as I do, feel the same desperate, fleeting passion, watch you struggle to keep it alive. The way your grin is shy yet so beautiful, the way you try to hide it.
And yet, the frustrating fact obvious in something that is going so well. The answer you knew a month ago, maybe even a year. The fact that things are only seeming to get better gives me hope, but I've grown up a bit since last time. I keep my optimism in check.
When I look back at these past few days I can see them only like a happy daydream. That hasn't stopped me. I fetter and scramble and surge forth my efforts to build upon what in the end was most likely only a wisp of remembered fantasy. And the hilarious duality is I can do this, and also plainly see how futile it is. And at 23 years old, that is what growing up feels like to me. I have drawn my feelers in, hedged my bets in advance, learned from past experience.
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