i know i haven't written for awhile.

monday; I talked to you.

You ended it on tuesday by announcing that I had to go think about what you mean to me, and then to tell you. So in spite of my deep aversion to conflicts, I've been making myself think. I've been doing my homework, doing what you told me to do, with a force in your voice I've never heard before.

But for all my thinking, I return to the same conclusion. And it's the same one I wrote out loud on a certain monday in april this year. it's the same it's the same. You can go read it if you want. I wouldn't have changed anything, especially the last paragraph of my soliliquy.
Will you finally accept my conclusion? Because the thesuraus has run out of words too.

Now will you let me move on in my life?

Because I have so much to say I've been wanting to talk about my boys and the things we've been getting up to together but the memory of our last conversation you made it into a cork and stuffed it into the oesophagus of my throat didn't you. Because I can't verbalise the thoughts I have in my head, I can't form them into virtual concrete. Ignore the oxymoron because it makes sense. Fried ice cream exists and virtual reality does too.

Look you said it too. That we're going around in circles. Wouldn't that automatically mean that the sensible choice would be to stop retarding ourselves. Regressing. All that.

I'm going to stop explaining myself to me.