I never had it clear: Should I send you text, should I call you on the phone... I am starting to harass you? My psych answered, 'yes, he does not know you, you have been on line, wtf.' I tried to ease my heart reminding myself that my psych was also a nut. But he was kind of right, or was he?
He also agreed when K said I knew nothing about love, that I should be very careful before ever using that word--this was my turn to say 'WTF'. I mean, what did they know? I mean, it is true Babe, I have never seen you in person, and though I could stare at your Facebook pics forever, I try not to do it to much: the more I look at you, the more I fear I am not half as attractive as you.
But you are a sweet Babe, you often insist, 'you have so much going for you.' You have also call me Babe, which made me go bunkers. Yes, I could not help but feel you tender spectre sweetly grazing my skin. By definition, you are a Babe, if you look it up: 'term of address for a young attractive [wo]man.' I might be a Babe in the less connotative sense (though 19 years and 100 pounds older than you): 'very young child who has not begun to walk or talk.' I always wondered why those verbs were basically the same were it not for the w/t difference.
I mean, I know how to talk and I can walk lots. But I can't, for my life, inscribe myself in the order of symbols--I just can't. I talk when I should not, and I say what I should not in the least of appropriate ways and moments. OK, I have another shrink who thinks I am a fool. WTF! But anyways, she would have said that of an ancient Rabbi known in the Christian world and Christ.
I can't make sense of myself, I can't start to find me in my own words.
But you do, beautiful Babe, like when you said, 'you need not change, there is nothing in you you need to change: you are wonderful.'
Wow, wonderful are you.
