I will never get through. I hate being this negative about it, but I think I have to accept the truth. It’s funny…I always thought I’d be the one carrying the lamp while wondering through daylit streets looking form something that doesn’t exist. I can’t help it. The thoughts gave way to images, and the images carried me to the scents. The scents of bloosoms unseen…remaining so permanently, I suppose. But the fire! It teases with its heat…ever luring even my conscience to justify to myself its scarring heat. It’s a dream that follows me into the waking hour! Perhaps I am sleeping now, and truly, the memory of the imagined is nothing less than reality. It consumes me, though. How can I, like a child, remain drawn to what this world will deny me? Angst? No doubt! If something brings even my overly analytical, detail oriented, and truth seeking mind to justify this immoral act…then can it be good? Though I have the reason and intelligence to engage the logic…and though I know right from wrong…still I say…I DON’T CARE! Now, if I can be sure that what I wish to happen has not, and that the alternative that I remember is not truth… oh forget it. Reality only and always says…I think too much.

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