The harpy in my head is in a sour mood today. She reminds me that I lied. There is a third possibility. It is the worst of them all because it is basically a repeat of the pattern with new players. The blissful ignorance of the primary, the willful competition of the secondary; so desperate for SOMETHING, SOMEONE, that they’ll do anything, say anything, be anything, give up even the last inch.
I’m not one to be the willful competitor. The third possibility and I, we are strangers. And if I ever become one to consider it, it will be very shortly before I travel “down the highway” rather than “across the street”, if you know what I mean.
In silence, the mind wanders and it wonders. In silence, assumptions and conclusions eventually draw themselves.
I know the sound of silence when I hear it and I know as well my own tolerance for self-deception.
She whispers that, perhaps, I am becoming aware of yours.