It was funny, talking with you last night, and hearing the foolishness of one helplessly and awkwardly chasing after you. Funny in that one can see one's own foolishness acted out by another - to see it for what it is and not how you think it is.
Do you see?...
He and I are, indeed, actually the same.
”I didn't realize I was stupid in that way...”
In more ways than that.
And thus I am, somewhat, beset by the stupidity that follows in my wake. But, as always, when such is revealed, what we chose to do in the next moment is what matters.
Even though we are on the tail end of our friendship's season, I feel like I learn more about everything I do, and have done, wrong, when we have our talks. The truth may make me wince, but I enjoy speaking with you in such a way that, if we never speak again, it will still have ended well. Every conversation is a final conversation, in that nothing is ever unsaid, nothing is ever wanted beyond what the moment has provided.
There is no longing, no lusting, no expectation beyond a simple statement: "It was good talking with you."
For me - that is something new: goodness, because a thing is good. Often goodness has only been in the abstract, or been something that just happened, followed by me doing everything within my strength to recreate it. I think I'm done trying to recreate it. And there's a modicum of peace in that.
I'll see you next - well, when I see you next...