of all your ideas
*welcome home, my jamie! i'm so happy to have you back.*lately as always, i've been thinking. it gets in the way. sometimes i wish i didn't know the things i do. many times i'm not sure why i feel the way i feel. my mind seems different. i almost never understand myself. say what you want about that; it matters not to me, or maybe it simply doesn't matter at all. (just between you and me and God) everybody needs some time to heal; everybody needs like everybody bleeds. can't we sit and talk about all that we've loved and lost and what it's cost, and i'll put on a show for you, pretending not to hurt, like nothing's ever wrong, and you'll see right through me. and i'll be here for you and you'll be there for me, and i'll feign strong -- and you'll see right through me... maybe all i or anyone else really seeks is to be understood -- but what an elusive concept. my words are few and always somewhat tainted.
still i'll keep trying to speak and tell you of these things which seem to matter so to you...