So, Today I spent the whole day outside, well, most of the day that is. We went for coffee, talked for an hour and a half and then went walking in the woods for about three and a half hours.It reminded me of the time I use to spend with her and I missed her. I missed the way we use to walk beside each other, neither of us sloutching, fast-paced while talking about the most extraordinary topics, even if it was just about the possibility of aliens landing on the earth. Or even that time we talked about trains and planes. Aee, it all meant something else - never it's face-value, but something... it all meant something more. What? I can never be too sure, but it did mean something. I miss the way we use to be so frank with each other, how I could read her mind at the drop of a hat and help her with her problems, know that although she'd already thought about what I was saying, we both felt like I was actually helping. Most importantly though, I miss the way we held each other under the clear midnight sky, almost as though the world didn't matter, as though none of it mattered... The only problem here is that it never happened lke that; it never happened at all. It only ocurred in my mind, in her mind too. And the truth is that we both knew that the other was thinking it but we were both too scared to react to it. We always were too scared of our feelings for each other. None of that mattered right now. The reality was that I had just spent the last five hours of my life with someone else and that, although we hadn't taken the same route, I still felt as though I had betrayed her and the memory of her. A widower who had decided to date again... only she wasnt dead and we hadn't dated for two years. The reality was that even though I was enjoying myself with my friend as we treked through the forest, I was thinking about her for about half of the journey. A constant shadow lingering over me. Everything from the setting sun that evening that we both have watched together so many times to the crunching snow under our feet and the set of blue gemstones in my companions eyes, it all seemed to be an intrusive reminder of her constant presence here with me. And for some reason, the sun just didn't look the same as I sat there on that wooden bench in the middle of nowhere, it warmth just did feel as warm nor did it's shine seem as bright as on the other nights... But that's just foolishness, because we all know that yesterday's sun was brighter than any of the suns on the days her and I stood, watching it bury itself below the skyline and out of sight. The problem is that the warmth I use to feel on those bitter-cold evenings came from her heart and that the radiating brightness I use to sense was, in fact, her personality. The truth is that the sun had absolutely nothing to do with the way I felt - other than the fact that it allowed me to potentially blame something else for what I was feeling on those nights. And I realized all of that yesterday - it all came to me like a tonne of bricks and all I wanted to do was sit there on that wooden bench and cry. Deep down inside all I wanted to do was sit there and cry, waiting for the moon to show it's face, signalling the end of the sun for one more day. All I really wanted to do was to sit there and hold onto my friend, less she loses he ability to breathe, and tell her all of it and never look back - I wanted that sun to set o'er the old chapters of my life and ne'er return; ne'er be reopened because the old scars never seem to heal. You can lick your wounds, but that only keeps 'em fresh. Your best bet is to salt 'em and be done with it. We talked about that yesterday, actually. Both of our inabilities to remove ourselves from the past to the point where we simply end up torturing ourself. I suspect that, for us, it had a lot to do with the fact that we're both Pisces, and that the sense of conrol and the illusion of safety, amplified by mere nostalgia is what always made the past more picturesque for us. But when you think about it, how many people are unable to actually put the past in the past and move forth? I mean this strictly in the relationship sense and not in some awkward metaphorical or as an awesome life-lesson kind of past. I mean, so much of us bat ourselves back and forth like some kind of bloody tether-ball and never even notice the damage we're causing. In fact, I'd be willing to wager that most of the time when we return to a previous place and/or state in our lives, we do so under duress and as such, we do not realize the otherwse apparent dangers associated with our decision and the ineviable outcomes of hostility, devestation and let-down. And so everytime something bad happens in our life, we conveniently find ourselves in the arms of an ex lover who, at one point or another treated us like absolute garbage. Why? Because subconciously we've been convinced - mostly by our own doing, that we're worth practically nothing and as such, it would only seem fitting that we return to a person who confirmed that 'reality,' right? I mean, of course, what were really looking for is confidence in our own conclusions - a type of self-assurence, eh. So we fall into a eadly tap of needing to be right for our own sake, but we never realize that the point in which we're attemptig to prove ourselves correct is not only detrimental to our very existence, but is actually a warped form of reality and cannot be legitimately justified. Naturally, we never see this because of our dilluted state of mind - I use that term loosely and as a direct result of this dillusion, we crumble to pieces, and ultimately seal another fate. The next step comes in way of an attempted relief effort. Either we, or someone we know/ trust attemps to break s of ou own bondage. Some of us get out at this stage mainly because either the person we've clung to is really a jerk, or we've come to see the light through negotiations and logical queries. Others persist, never relenting in their affirmed belief of their need for this person, this relic of the past who's only purpose is to harbour all the negative feelings about ourselves- a constant reminder of our own failures. This rescue attempt can occur a number of times before it is actually effective. The only problem is that with each try, the next attempt has a lesser chance of succeeding on account of the repitition of the facts/ arguments. If the same ineffective thesis and argumnts are used on a growing problem, how will it ever win? And the answer is that It doesn't - it can't and it won't. The trick is to call in reinforcements, the more salt you use, the better off you are - remember that my friends. My problem is that I can't take my own damned advice. We talked about that too. My problem is that I'm still caught between the two realities; where I really am in real life and where I want to be with her. And it's not that she treats me like garbge (though some would argue otherwise.) It's more of an inability to progress - a fatal flaw sometimes. Good thing it only appears in moderation, like some of my relationships and my writing... oh how my writing needs desperate work. And unlike a bowl of soup, it'll take a little more than some salt-to-taste to fix my many problems. Saltfully yours, -Captain B. Torn