This is what I want to do

I dont usually write in the dark. I dont usually listen to music while I write. I dont usually write in Word Pad. I dont usually get back from Vermont. I dont usually feel so in control as I feel right now.

I feel as if I can speed up and slow down time. I feel as if I can edit the past and dream up the future. Not just for my self but for everybody.

This is what I want to do. I want to pretend.

I want to pretend to be the dark silhouette of the tree outside this window. I want to pretend to be the lamp on the lamp post shining out behind it. I want to pretend to be the snow and all the tracks in the snow. I want to pretend.

And, all the while I want to remember I am pretending. I dont want to become what I pretend. I dont want to be told who I am so that I may become it or even tell myself who I am so that I may become something "more." I just want to be pretending and typing. The words should pretend too. Pretend that I am in them somewhere. Pretend that if you look through them you will see me there winking and bobbing my head in whatever soft agreement would be most useful to you.

Yes, useful. I want to pretend to be useful and really be useless, like words or beauty or anything I do.

This is what I want to do. I want to pretend to be me. I want to pretend I am liked. I want "pretend" to be "believe."

I want my posts to stop being so much about what I want. Maybe.

I think I just wanted to feel the keys under my fingers and pretend I was making some kind of connection within and out to you all.

So I lied...

Which is to say, I changed my mind.

When it comes to love I don't fling my gates wide open. That is, I do sometimes, but not always. There is always a way in, though. One gate out of seven is left unlocked for you in particular. And you might gain keys if you figure things out. And they might work on some of the gates or they might not, depending on the day. And you might sit inside with me for days and suddenly find yourself locked out. Because the trying to get in and the trying to get around once in is all of the fun. At least for me. Depending on who you happen to be, you may or may not have a whole heap of fun. Because one type of desire is the struggle. One type is the satisfaction of mutual pleasure. One type is the wish for what is good to remain good. And so forth. I am moody, and I am fickle.

So sue me.