I guess, what makes life exciting for him is it. I have finally decided that I am not crazy or paranoid. I realise how he is dull when it is not around. How I wish he would look at me that way; what can I say, what I am to him is somewhat what law is for him. Architecture is what I am not, but what is it. I am a chore, I am not his moleskine.

-Or them. Theoretically and culturally speaking, I mean. I have been plagued by his resistance. What makes me shudder is the fact that, I have been the cause of his being dull (according to him, in his more adamant state). Where I have been lobbying against all the shades of gray that have been coming my way, where I have been sadly looked upon by my peers (What has happened to you?, they say.) I shrug, I reply, I am growing up. And I try not to look back. And I feel that I made the right choice. spoketoosoon

What makes me write like this is when I am fueled by how I realise that I choose not to see. I know the 'subliminal', and yes, it is a woman's instinct (although some men have it).

ijustdontfeedyoursoul

Let me put it this way, the relationship is somewhat like the patient and psychiatrist. There is a deeper emotional attachment. But it all boils down to service rendered, service paid.

What makes me pat my back is, how I understand these things. How writing helps ease the uncertainty. How this is part of my process of maturing. How I decide that I still find me interesting. How we will go through the motion tomorrow, and play the skit we have grown so fond of in a monotonous-type-of-way.