...strength to force the moment to its crisis...

Endless comedy, it goes on, it goes on... An interesting night all around.

Once upon a time I thought I knew things. And people, the clutch point. I once thought I was good at knowing people.

An arm chair at the Wick and him next to me - the hands that wrapped a lanyard around his and mine; the leg that brushed against mine, rhythmic caress, again and again; the one who speaks of half-love, and falling in love but in the end just plays love. Who plays at being mine, but isn't.

And another who is, could be, if I let him be - but is not wanted, and is not supposed to be.

My head hurts. It's full of drama (other peoples for once) and I am so tired.