Something weird is going on.

The cat seeing invisible,
tremors calling at all hours looking to be nuzzled,
the snow in the rain with a faint meow.

Oh, what you must think of me.

Who ARE you, little man? You sprang forth into my life from a litany of non-existence, recognition taking shape in a pink house where you barely registered me, but in my reverence, I absorbed every detail of you.

A conquest of sorts, I was not good enough, type enough, tan enough...one of the enough's that I will never measure up to and don't really care to. For you to look upon me and try, no matter how meager and fickle the effort, was a triumph within itself. You will never know it, and I will forever fall short of understanding it, this need, but there it sits on a ottaman in my brain, because it is relaxed now. It has BECOME.

Pride, in being nothing to someone.

For a while I tried to take it back. Then change it. Make the nothing into some semblance of feeling. Now I realize that effort in this manner is futile, and I am more saddened by the apathy with which I regard the situation than the emptyness it is in my heart. I can feel without loving, is what I have learned. Something passionate can be mechanical and predictable and I think I might die before I settle for that in my life. Who knows, maybe I will.