Normality is not my strong suit. My parents are born-again conversative hippies who grow and hunt their food. I didn't grow up with TV. Thus pop culture references pre-2002 are usually over my head. Sorry but I do not know the words to that Madonna song you're screaming. No, I have no desire to learn them.
What else? I'm missing a joint in my left foot. I was semi-excommunicated from my childhood church. I like bugs. I always thought my romantic life would be like a great novel. In fact, it is. While I had anticipated Jane Austen, it seems that life has other notions. You be the judge.
What does this have to do with my lover? His name is Sam. He is sleeping with other women. He hasn't said so but I expect it. Not because he should, but because he can. We are merely lovers. We live worlds apart. Normal people would move on. At least I hope, for their sake, that they would turn their backs, thank the heavens for the happy times then walk away.
To my lover: I love you. I’m willing to be crazy. I'm willing to bare it all. The misery I felt when I left you in Paris will probably be pebbles in comparison to our twisted future. But at least I can say I tried. I loved.
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