Call this a confession. Or don't. God knows that what follows bears all semblance to a hastily strewn together assortment of pithy little diatribes, implosive cliches, and one of many kinds of patented stereotypes as can only come from the most blatant and obvious self pity and deprecation. It's also the truth. Candor. The essence of my emotional spectrum laid out on a plate for all to dig in. And while we are on the food metaphors, I do suppose that it will be quite the cherry on top of the shockingly disappointing cake if the essence of my soul which I am set to put forth within the next however many lines will be construed as empty and pointless sentimentality that it may in fact be. Of course, these feelings that, lo, boil up inside me seem real and sharply painful to me, but who is to say that they really are? Who is to say that the emotional shit that seems to be on the ever beckoning increase is not merely some ploy of that mocking, chronically prevalent self pity that I mentioned? Oh no, it's not like I could really be climbing these mountains inside...tackling these never ending steps - unwillingly? - away from the destination I so desperately wish to reach. Of course not...just maudlin ordinarity; some cheap, Leonard Cohen-esque ripoff from at best an emotional dilletante simply bearing the cross of an overbloated sense of self worth (or lack thereof). Decide for yourself, dear reader. Or don't... Of course now having stirred these possible doubts in your mind, let me add yet more spice to that boiling pot of possible confusion that may or may not be boiling...that may or may not be a pot...let me drop the matter down to yet more seemingly superficial levels which almost go out of their way to ascertain that this confession IS in fact anything but...rather some shallow and worthless pettiness come as a result of that disgusting self disillusionment thing that preys like the vilest of predators upon the weak and lonely. A girl. Yes...a girl. In fact, let us drop the pretense of subtle foreshadowing and plot building - since a plot THIS hardly is - and say it like it is...it being that there was one...and now another...and is she still? And is the other? I don't know. The first - an utter angel, the second - a pristine muse. Yes...and I? Me? I just was. Or for that matter, will be. You see, eschewing such triviality as details, I will say this much - some time back - I have dug myself into a hole. A chasm. Ever since have I been desperately clawing at the ever rising wall of dirt, dying to get out. I know all too well that I am ready to face the world on the outside again...but does anyone else? Do people not fucking change? But, oh...what anger I seem to have stirred here. Hardly the cause. So there was one...complete, utter beauty never seemed so pedestrian in the face of this...this transcendent creation...the deep, passionate, yearning eyes, like some distant, merely imagined stars that perhaps light up some distant heavens......the subtle, exotic smile, the.......yes. Everything. And her name. Pure...melodic...like the...