Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

What a strange and wonderful digital world we live in. I had managed to not tell my parents that my glass wounds were self-inflicted, and by the time I was having friday dinner with them, my brother had shown them the flickr photoset of my adventure. I like this strange world, it's very beautiful. Honesty flying faster than fiction. 85 pictures of my stitches and wounds, and all my family have seen them and my love's commentary. Wonderful.

I am drunk. And I think people can officially start worrying about me.

But what would you do in my place? What if you found someone perfect? You rebelled against the very idea, and suddenly were confronted with it. You read like a grocery list. We fit together in ways I didn't think possible. I know her and she knows me. Her friends like me, even her ruddy mother likes me. I have specifically kept her from my family because I know they would get along. She would do excellently. Willful, intelligent, eloquent, not likely to back down yet not abrasive. I love her... but she doesn't love me. At least, not enough.

What would you do in my place? I want to fight fate, logic, and chance. I know I can, I have before. Like heated blades from the forge's hot core I have defied reason before, why must this be different? My love, how can I live without you? I am not them, I shall not be a relic. I will NOT be yet another friend that loved you once. I cannot do it, I have too much pride. You speak of seeds yet the fields are not fertile. How would you even know if there was one there?

Yet your moon remains hung, and your morning star burns. Let us give it a few months, maybe a few years, and I may yet find you at a little cafe in London and ask you to marry me.

But then again, I am drunk. Good evening everyone, I hope the world finds you in better straights than I.

Because my brother had a copy and it's pretty: Johnny Cash - Hurt