The issue with drama isn't the colours, the flamboyancy, or the sheer expanse of the situation. The issue lies in the suspension of disbelief, in the impenetrable fourth wall which separates reality from fiction. Hence then, a life of drama is a life unreal and understood only in theory. Maybe if I didn't take the moments so seriously, they wouldn't seem so absurd and out of reach.

At the very least, I feel that I have established some sort of internal dispute resolution mechanism: It involves quietness, patience and an appropriate amount of time enough to ascertain the source and hence solution to whatever is driving me crazy. Rest is good - rest and reflection.

Also, I have found some way to categorize how my good-will should fall and I guess intentions do matter in these things. Thanks for the freebies and the positive externalities, but if we don't get to where we started out intending to me, then I'm sorry.

I realize that I am not the same person that you met in August. That's a wonderful thing, and its mostly thanks to you.

I left both my children.
I abandoned them.
They say it's the worst thing a mother can do.

It would be wonderful to say you regret it. It would be easy... But what does it mean? What does it mean to regret when you have no choice? It's what you can bare. There it is...no one is going to forgive me. It was death. I chose life. 

Dear Leonard... to look life in the face, always... to look life in the face... and to know it... for what it is... at last to know it... to love it... for what it is... and then... to put it away. Leonard... always the years between us... always the years... always the love... always the hours...

~ The Hours