It is amazing to me, still, that I can go on living life under the impression that any of its elements can perhaps emulate the story of a good movie or book. I am constantly disappointed by the inaccuracy of reality - by its sheer denial to cater to every one of my emotional whims.
I go through the days setting up moments, envisioning results, and being gutted by the perseverance of deception. And though I try my best to fault anyone or anything, the glaring truth is that there is no one person or thing to blame for my stubbornly nebulous view of life.
It's fitting, then, that the one underlying emotion is inevitably anger. Downright rage, sometimes. The result of pouring so much energy into something so unreliable as a personal intimate relationship can already be dangerously unpredictable. To put that much feeling into something with a preconceived Hollywoodian outcome is downright crazy.
Cut.
M
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