My mind astounds me sometimes, and by this I do not mean to brag in any way shape or form what-so-ever. My amazement is not at it's faculties, however much people may be impressed or underwhelmed by them, but at the absolutely insane directions in goes in from time to time.
As I write this I am filled with longing, not for anyone who I can name, nor even a person where I can go and point to, or, even describe. This phantom for whom I find myself pining today, visited me, (or I was visited upon her...) last night. She is so indistinct and blurry to me that I feel foolish confiding such, especially in such an unmetered forum, but sometimes I just like to write to read my own hand (as it were).
There are a few things that I do know about this mystery woman who haunted my dreams last night; this is not the first time I've dreamt of her, merely the first that I can really recall upon waking. (Again, how I know this baffles me.) What I can recall about her is nothing about her appearance. Rather, I recall an indomitable iron will, a razor barbed tongue, and a heart of gold that, in my dream, either had already warmed to a gentle, nearly imperceptable fire toward me, or did by the time I woke up.
What baffles me so much is my pre-occupation now. This phantom machination of my mind is not real, likely never will be, precisely as I imagine her, and will only likely further fuel my fire for misogyny. At this point, I consider it a mostly benign indulgence only with humorous intent. There are tinges of bitterness that line my unsavory habit, but I earnestly am allured toward those women I've met with sharp minds and sharper wits.
Keeping this in mind I know there are women who contradict everything I usually say in this regard, they are few and far between though, and that ends up asserting a generalization on the majority that there's not much worth it there.
Of course, this is just as true of men, so maybe I can chalk it all up to xenophobia. Introspective rambling aside, I know this phantasm will haunt my thoughts for some time to come. Honestly, I'm looking forward to it.
As I write this I am filled with longing, not for anyone who I can name, nor even a person where I can go and point to, or, even describe. This phantom for whom I find myself pining today, visited me, (or I was visited upon her...) last night. She is so indistinct and blurry to me that I feel foolish confiding such, especially in such an unmetered forum, but sometimes I just like to write to read my own hand (as it were).
There are a few things that I do know about this mystery woman who haunted my dreams last night; this is not the first time I've dreamt of her, merely the first that I can really recall upon waking. (Again, how I know this baffles me.) What I can recall about her is nothing about her appearance. Rather, I recall an indomitable iron will, a razor barbed tongue, and a heart of gold that, in my dream, either had already warmed to a gentle, nearly imperceptable fire toward me, or did by the time I woke up.
What baffles me so much is my pre-occupation now. This phantom machination of my mind is not real, likely never will be, precisely as I imagine her, and will only likely further fuel my fire for misogyny. At this point, I consider it a mostly benign indulgence only with humorous intent. There are tinges of bitterness that line my unsavory habit, but I earnestly am allured toward those women I've met with sharp minds and sharper wits.
Keeping this in mind I know there are women who contradict everything I usually say in this regard, they are few and far between though, and that ends up asserting a generalization on the majority that there's not much worth it there.
Of course, this is just as true of men, so maybe I can chalk it all up to xenophobia. Introspective rambling aside, I know this phantasm will haunt my thoughts for some time to come. Honestly, I'm looking forward to it.
anyanka_____:
Maybe it's Claire Forlani contacting you through some sort of mental telepathy in your sleep? Ya never know...... 