Less Than Three

Chapter 41: In Which I Become Someone Else

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach ...

Those are the kind of words that actually worked for Elizabeth Barrett. And she was a hermit ... with a spinal injury ... and a lung ailment. Not only that, I've seen pictures of the chick. She wasn't exactly hawtt.

Her man, Robert Browning, he didn't care about any of that. He read some of her poetry and sent her a postcard saying, 'Girl, you are the shiz,' or something like that. No really, it was a telegram. And on it he said, "I love your verses with all my heart, Miss Barrett. I do, as I say, love these books with all my heart - and I love you too." They hadn't even MET yet.

The power of words, huh?

I didn't want to lure Brady back with my words. I just wanted to makes things a little less painful.

*** 

6:02 PM  I took some pictures of the ocean today but they all looked the same. I took a few shots of a dog on a surf board too. After the dog left, I decided to concentrate on the tide and what it left in its wake. Those pictures looked okay, but they didn't really start to look cool until I switched them over to black and white. 

If you knew me in my previous life you would probably shake your head right now. Wasn't I just yammering on and on about color? Yeah. So?

P.S. I wrote the letter today. I'm happy with the results.

P.P.S. But no, I won't share it here. I think I'm starting to understand that whole privacy thing. Words ARE powerful. They can hurt. Dear Ex-Perfect Boyfriend, I hope they can heal too.

I tried to write to Dave. I tried to write to Madison and Craig too. But those words didn't come as easy.

P.P.P.S. Of all the boys in the world (besides my dad and brother) I probably Love my best guy-friend most. I can be completely myself around him. I am not mortified if he catches me with a booger hanging out of my nose. We'd just laugh about it. (Not that I have boogers, mind you.) We can talk about anything. Or we can talk about nothing. It doesn't matter. It's all good all the time. 

Or, at least, that's how it used to be :(

If only I was a Storge kind of girl, then Craig and I would be together forever. I wished Eros would sneak up and shoot an arrow at me so we could live happily ever after. 

Thursday, July 10,  9:44 AM Term of the Day: Incipient - Just beginning to appear or occur

We met some people at the mini-golf place last night. One of them was a boy who was 'summer friends' with Tim a long time ago. Our families rented the same two cottages next to each other for a few years, until a hurricane wiped them out.

I didn't really remember the boy, Jack. Tim and 'Jackie' remembered each other though, and they had great fun at my expense.

"So, you're Lil' Droopy Drawers?" Jack said.

"Please. I was FIVE. I've grown up since then."

"Oh yeah," he said, "you certainly have."

I'd forgotten how much fun it can be to flirt. My enjoyment of it is incipient. Before anyone starts freaking out though, thinking, 'Whoa. Isn't this the girl who just cried about leaving scabs everywhere she stepped?' Yeah. That's me. But this is just a little Ludus-ing. It is purely for kicks and giggles. No one's gonna get hurt this time. I swear.