So, yeah, like a coward, I made a few CL postings... Yeah, about that... I've stumped to an all new low, that I never thought I would; but it's not what you think, honest. Here's the first; now, here's the second.
Before you ask: I'm epicenter from Baton Rouge and New Orleans, so our area uses both.
I'm placating my desires to say something to her, in person. Why? You might ask... Well, because I've never had a friendship, quite like this, I don't believe I ever will again. I don't think it worth sacrificing for something so moot as an decade-old crush.
In case you're wondering, it's the same one I gave a book to, and was positing sending flowers to. If you're confused, read my previous post(s). Nope, before you arrive at the intuitive leap, the flowers still didn't have any subtext of meaning. I mean, I was willing to send my bestie, in Houston, all the red Skittles I could get my hand(s) on; so I actually do nice things for my friends....
Anyways, the best way I can describe her and my friendship is that we're two Indigo children. We talk about things, that none of our friends can fathom or would even care about, like: theoretical physics, philosophy, sociology, mathematics, you name it.
In essence, anything and everything is shared betwixt us. And I don't have this type of mutual understanding with another soul on the planet... ...at all. EVER.
Yeah, I realize it's a bit Creeper McCreeperton to even do the CL thing, but what other avenue is there? I could wring a song about it, but she would see right through it... ...so this was my only 'sea of anonymity' option.
Bleh. It's not that I'm love with her, at all. It's more of a sense that I wish there weren't these constructs of life and responsibility, that come betwixt us. Sometimes, life sucks and this is one of those 'suckie' aspects of it; more or less, because I can't even begin to describe our situation, much less, can I address what I'm wanting as a final or end-result.
Anyways, here's a pic of me playing music two weeks ago... I'm the guy with the guitar.
Don't ask me about the mind-bullets look, I don't know... I do know that the lights were bright as shit, though.
Before you ask: I'm epicenter from Baton Rouge and New Orleans, so our area uses both.
I'm placating my desires to say something to her, in person. Why? You might ask... Well, because I've never had a friendship, quite like this, I don't believe I ever will again. I don't think it worth sacrificing for something so moot as an decade-old crush.
In case you're wondering, it's the same one I gave a book to, and was positing sending flowers to. If you're confused, read my previous post(s). Nope, before you arrive at the intuitive leap, the flowers still didn't have any subtext of meaning. I mean, I was willing to send my bestie, in Houston, all the red Skittles I could get my hand(s) on; so I actually do nice things for my friends....
Anyways, the best way I can describe her and my friendship is that we're two Indigo children. We talk about things, that none of our friends can fathom or would even care about, like: theoretical physics, philosophy, sociology, mathematics, you name it.
In essence, anything and everything is shared betwixt us. And I don't have this type of mutual understanding with another soul on the planet... ...at all. EVER.
Yeah, I realize it's a bit Creeper McCreeperton to even do the CL thing, but what other avenue is there? I could wring a song about it, but she would see right through it... ...so this was my only 'sea of anonymity' option.
Bleh. It's not that I'm love with her, at all. It's more of a sense that I wish there weren't these constructs of life and responsibility, that come betwixt us. Sometimes, life sucks and this is one of those 'suckie' aspects of it; more or less, because I can't even begin to describe our situation, much less, can I address what I'm wanting as a final or end-result.
Anyways, here's a pic of me playing music two weeks ago... I'm the guy with the guitar.
Don't ask me about the mind-bullets look, I don't know... I do know that the lights were bright as shit, though.