about the talking fish

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Writer. Wheelman. Occasional DIY mechanic. Walking collection of hang-ups. Hopeless romantic. Old-school. Analog soul in a digital world. I am all of these things and more.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

"You were always on my mind..."

Maybe I rushed into things and didn’t give enough time and consideration. Maybe I should have listened harder, been more perceptive to what was going on in your life. I know precious little about you.

Like Elvis’ song goes, you were always on my mind. I was too stupid to admit it. I was too self-absorbed. I kept missing the point.

Maybe in some other lifetime, we’d have met each other differently. Unfortunately there is only one life—one which must be kept sacred, despite the constant allure of sin and the burden of regrets.
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Why are my affections always so misguided? It pains me. This is hardly the first time I felt like I’ve been running around like some headless chicken. Some headless chicken I must be, wanting to cry tears from nonexistent eyes, wanting to bury a headless neck in the sand with all the ostriches.

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