I realize I can either become so adept at checking my ex's FB wall, his amazon wish, or his YT for hidden messages that he might think of me, or tiny strands of data that either re-in force forgiveness or a new quality of being. I can either spend my earnest energy dwelling on the past, the great event of love it was, rather than obsess that love will find us again. 'Caught looking at your FB profile page again I was struck by the memory of making love to you, and that was all it was a beautiful memory.' — at see/sea.
"I make the other’s absence responsible for my worldliness.”
― Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse: Fragments
Loading more stuff…
Hmm…it looks like things are taking a while to load. Try again?