On Memories And Confusion

i couldn't sleep. not now. not when i remembered. oh god, i love A. why did D. have to come up in the conversation? i had forgotten. or at least, i had it stashed away already. archived somewhere in the "Move On Pare" shelf in the library of my mind.

red wine. new year. digicam. morning. blue wave. him. me. him. him. and him again...

no. this should stop. i should stop thinking about things that should have already been closed a long time ago. books that fall from their shelves should just be placed back on the space they left. simple as that. no need to sit on the floor and read everything again. live everything again. feel everything again. it's pointless, as much as it is hurtful.

no. right now i'm feeling the prelude of the onslaught of new love. this is what i should be reading. this is what i should be writing about. this book. right now. A. this book is going to be as beautiful, no, more beautiful than the other books i have written. there will be love. and it shall overcome. there will be death. but not for the good. there will be life.

yes. A. will be a new lease on life, for good or bad.