love was always evading. possibilities were like butterflies disappearing in an instant flutter to the wild. somehow he detested being cornered... the possibility of dating, or being trapped inside with a couple who believed albeit, un-subconsciously, that they were made for each other since the heavens hurled them out of kingdom come. he had come to realize that he can never be found, much more, he to find, the life that everyone ideally finds. somehow he too detested realizing himself the truth that, for end's sake, he still denied.

"a?" he imagined she would have said in a low tender voice.

he would have done nothing, and would have waited for her to come over to him and kneel by the bed to say, "what is it? are you sick?"

no answer. her insistence would not have made him say anything until, "are you depressed?" would have struck him and entirely changed the realm of things as things would clock-work in his denying mind.

"are you depressed?" he repeatedly thought over and over in his mind as the woman he started to believe was real slowly collapsed with his sanity, and all else, except himself, lay wasted as each affirmation his lips muttered, in resentful tears, slowly drained the long weeks of accummulated tension from the room.


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