"Half-flattered you believed in me. Half-sorry you made a mistake"
So this is where we are are after months and months of
building. Standing in a room of our high rise building that
has just suffered a volley of blows. Only moments before
the sky was the limit. Now there are visible cracks in the
foundation. I don't know what to make of it. I don't know
what to do about it. And I don't think she does either.
I can't help but place much of the blame on my shoulders.
It was a great idea. In most cases its timing could not be
more perfectly scripted, in most cases.
Sometimes its impossible to tell someone exactly what
you're thinking or feeling or what your reasoning is. And
when this occurs with something that looks so good, so
easy, so right, the consequenses of not complying can be
I guess I was a fool. It is amazing what this stigma can
do. What power it has. And I thought I was turning a corner.
She must know I wanted it more than anything, anything
except my own self-reproach. It was all sincere, but it was
ignorant sincereity. I don't even know what I am saying.
Yesterday was one of the hardest day I've ever witnessed.
It was like I was watching the implosion of myself and our
structure at the same time. I just hope we got out in time.
And I hope I can pull somethings together to combat my
biggest threat, myself.
I don't know what I hope to accomplish with this. I just
want her to know that I care for her a lot and that I'm