Dammit, I still know, and isn't that just the thorn twisting in my side?

It's so ridiculously simple, all of this. It's all set lights and smoke, backdrops that are designed to induce the sigh of love and whispering winds of hope that fan that sigh into a fire that's so painfully hard to put out. No matter how short or long, no matter the disinterest and pride and blatant flaunting of oneself to drive the other mad...nothing matters when once you were allowed for a slip of time to see what you've always wanted to see. It is the reason for fools, violence, drunkeness and several other dramas that can be chalked up to breaking away and starting new, again. Some take it well, some will never ever learn, and still others will back away from it like it is a rabid thing with mossy fangs and punishing claws.

Is it so bad that I just want to HUG the rabid thing?