What am I going to do?
Seriously, if things continue like this, the only thing I will be able to write is harlequin romance. Maybe if that other dutch girl, the french one, could tell me what happened, then I would have learned something; then, I would forgoe making the same mistakes.
I feel a vague sense of history repeating itself. At least I've learned some self control; other things are very well--I'm not going to break down over the phone.
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This situation does have some novel traits. Namely, the community. We will discuss and reherse an alternate, plausible chain of events. Reherse. With different words each time. Visualize the false events in place of the real ones. We will actively unmake our stories with such vigour that the truth a matter of speculation to ourselves.
The awkward moments, inevitable in a post-romantic relationship, will never happen because there will have never been a romantic relationship.
Those things that I said last night were selfish and foolhearty. If you have ever been in forbidden love, then you can appreciate the confusion, the desire, the apprehension. If not, there are not words enough for me to describe it to you.
No tears tonight. I know my duty.
But, on the bright side, if you tell the "Story" enough times, eventually you will come to beleive it yourself. That's the best/worst thing about the human mind. We believe even our own lies.
But you will always miss them. In forbidden love, there's no proper outlet for those feelings, and so they linger. It's the hardest thing to do.
I'm so sorry.
Joseph Arthur- In the Sun
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