I don’t know what she wants, but it has something to do with me. Like a man possessed I waste no time in over-thinking, re-thinking and finally under-thinking the whole endeavor. I strip the girth of her want to meager nothing and wait to fuck it all up. It should be great for me. That it had come at such a crossroads in both my year and life is no coincidence and I fear that greatness can only be achieved when our moments and opportunities parallel our own gravity of action. Further, I fear this threatens to quantify our greatness as chance and further still, I fear greatness to be so polished by mood that there is nothing great to be found in anything at all.