“you and me and never us: a complicated series of almost interactions,”

I can’t get over the sadness this quote brings me. It’s one thing to find love and lose it… it’s another altogether to never have it. Can you imagine finding the love of your life and knowing it’s the wrong place, the wrong time? Knowing it’ll never be, but it so easily could be? I ache for anyone who has learned this truth, I mourn that lost love. I wish it on no one.

I’ve been struggling lately with the words I want to say and what actually appears on paper. Was riding the metro home last night after happy hour and just started writing. Reading it today I’m pleasantly surprised, albeit it a couple changes here and there. Ernest Hemingway got it right: write drunk; edit sober. Let’s see if I can finish my novel now…