sometimes the things we're searching for aren't where we're looking. it can be tough but they're out there. in every city. but usually they're in a different package than what you'd expect.
i remember those days and those moments. and I think that's why i'm so fucked up. because all i have are the memories and i lack the desire to go through it again. to deal with the pain of letting a "her" go again.
But that confusion aside, I enjoy the sentimentalist musing. Realizing one can be a go-getter and at the vanguard, while still tethered to something, in some way, but not tethered as in chained or restrained, just in the sense of connected, that's a dream most don't chase, but should. Permanence means neither settling nor boring, necessarily... Very few realize that. Plus, we tend to greed, and want as many "scalps" for our living memorial to our physical endowment, while neglecting the nougatty soulful center that gets people interested in that physical side in the first place.
(Full disclosure: one of my roommate's is a mimbo. Further, while I am a twinge jealous at the breadth of his bedroom conquests, I know that imitating his style, for me, would spread my mind too thin. I want context, volume, body... (Love for me will apparently be like a good shampoo.))
