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I had a funny little Tandy 1100 FD laptop when I came to hard drive, just a 720K floppy, but it was good for taking notes because it had a decent little text processor hardwired in. R. and I had a series of "silent conversations", taking turns typing alternative paragraphs. This was one of the first ones. The first paragraph is by me, I've italicized what she wrote.

Veronika was a German foreign exchange student I went out with my Junior year of high school, the subject of the fictional Cafe at Night that I wrote in the English class R. and I were sharing this semester.

Jeez. I guess I was acting pretty darn miserable yesterday and the day before. That Veronika thing really threw me for a loop. But I figured out a big part of it was the fact that she was coming IN TWO DAYS, and I had to had everything ready by then. (I get a call. "Kirk, guess where I am. New York City." Not some small town with an awesome brand of local beer, whose name I can't pronounce in a far off land, not a thriving metropolis that was the sight of a major battle in a World War, half a day away by plane, but NEW YORK CITY, the Big Apple, the City that Never Sleeps, a scant four hours away by automobile. ) But now I think I may be starting to get a grip.
The more I think about it, the more I realize I've probably way overromanticized that particular time. It was a good time, don't get me wrong, and things tended to confuse me much less than they do now, but it wasn't some Nirvana de Ohio, some Garden of Euclid. And now there's Thomas. Lucky guy, that Thomas. Probably whispers beautiful sweet nothings in her ear, in German, which is no easy task. God, I know I've gone on and had good, full relationships since then so it's a good thing she has too, but still. And yes, any hope of continuing a relationship that had only 4 months into eternity over an ocean was pollyanna to say the least. But still. But still. But still.

I guess I can sympathize a bit. I know the feeling of love lost, never to be regained, but the fact is, there are worlds yet to be discovered. There is a lifetime ahead of you, full of interesting people and places, many of which you'll fall in love with. The nice thing about love is that even if you aren't with a particuar person when you NEED to be close to them, the love is still there. And the love doesn't have to be restricted to one person. What is the thing you have more of the more you give away? Love is silly that way. The more people you can hold in your heart at once, the happier you'll be. And chances are that one of those people will be near enough so you can show them you care. Perhaps this is the psycho-babble of my weird mind, is sounds confused when I reread it, but perhaps the general intent is coming across. Is it?

Yeah i think it is 'cause what you're saying rings true. All of this I know. But it's still very very confusing. I'm really looking forward to talking to Veronika, though. There are so many things that it would be really good for me to know. I think the relationship we shared that summer was probably the first one I experienced that was satisfying mentally, physically, and emotionally. That probably plays a big part in the `Pedestal-ization' of Veronika in my mind. Or maybe that it just seemed really cool to be going out with someone from another country. I think an important thing for me to sort out will be how big of a role all the relatively unimportant stuff played in the `pedestal-ization' process.

Anything else?

Not really. Though I am sorry if I've been difficult to put up with recently. Although I believe it is best to be happy a vast majority of the time, occasionally I feel it's important to know what it's like not to be happy, and to learn to explore the feelings and emotions in the other end of the spectrum.

To write, perchance to stick my foot in my mouth... What to tell you? I think love is the worst and the best thing that can happen to you. The terrible thing about it is the WANTING that invades your thoughts. That's something I have an awful time dealing with. Losing someone you love is also pretty tough, but it hasn't happened to me in a long time; I barely remember what the hurt is like. I remember one literally sleepless night I had, the worst ache in my chest I can remember, but it's never been as bad since then.
The nice stuff about love is pretty obvious, why even go into it, but the hurt which often comes afterwards seems to me not to justify the endevour.
I think the way I justify not wanting to fall in love with people is to pretend I'm looking for the perfect someone to make me happy. I should realize that happiness won't ever be made for me, only by me.

The hurt that comes afterward can be bad. But I'd hate to think of anybody living in an endless and eternal land of dull grays, never risking the pain and hurt in order to taste the joys that life can hold. (*PROSE OVERLOAD WARNING*) Someone once said something (O God, was it one of the dear old Romantics?) about Sucking the Marrow Out of Life, and that's the way I think life should be lived. In regards to love, I think maybe it's best to try lots of relationships, being ready to acknowledge the fact that they might end in sorrow, but always hoping for the one that not even death could end. (O Jeez, Now I'm sounding like `Princess Bride')

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