musings on a stormy day

Maybe it's me.  Maybe i should stop writing maybe and accept that it is me.

I saw his face on a dream and it disturbed me.

Those sad eyes.  The tears.  The storm.

And i feel sad.  But i am powerless to do anything about it.  Because i was the one who delivered the blow.  How can i make him happy without lying to myself?  What is the truth?

I don't know. 

Tom Hanks said it was suppose to be like magic. 

The only magic i felt, ended in a a story that was tragic.

I guard it like crazy.  More than the blue diamond.  Was it because he offered a love that seem so true that i had to ruin it so that it would fit my conception of love?  I dunno.  I need to be by myself and chase the One who invented love.  This world has so many definitions for love.  But what does it really mean to love another person?

Love is patient.

It keeps no record of wrongs.

I have been racking for myself a pretty good record of wrongs.  Purposely?  Maybe i wanted to test this kind of love.

 perfecto!

The other one muttered.

No, the prince should love me in my rags, not with the help of a fairy godmother.

I am not sure what i am talking about.