Confession

I have developed a knack to jot down mushy feeling in too many different medias, be it here in the blog (90 % of the time), in that handwritten semblance of a diary (when it's getting too personal), and lastly on the draft folder of my cellphone.

Those text messages, never intended to be sent out, sit there for a day or two or more, until I grow over them and decide to delete them entirely. Last night's includes a Blaise Pascal quote, "The heart has its own reason which reason does not know." And the other part of the message was "Miss you, miss the idea of you...of us."

This morning, a one word text message arrived. And I replied.

Halo back. Who's this?

Imagine my surprise. Let me put it this way, in the words of that Kathleen Kelly character, "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly."

OK, y'all should've started a drinking game with the number of references to this, this and this that have surfaced both in here and and in the old blog. Hey, who says that I'm a hardcore feminist? More like a hopeless romantic. He he he.